


Book 1: The Spy, The Lady, and The Swamp Rat

by kneehighintheocean



Series: A Happy Ending for Ahsoka Tano [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Crait (Star Wars), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gray Jedi, Lesbian Ahsoka Tano, May the Force Be With You, Other, POV Alternating, Post-Book: Ahsoka, Post-Order 66, Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Rebellion, References to Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), Ryloth | Twi'lek, Star Wars: The Clone Wars Season 7 Spoilers, Strong Female Characters, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 91,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneehighintheocean/pseuds/kneehighintheocean
Summary: Ahsoka Tano has stepped into her role as spymaster for the Rebellion, and she is hard at work building her network of spies and fighting against the Empire. The Rebellion has become her life. A commander in the Imperial army has reached out to the Rebellion, and when she goes to meet him on the small Outer Rim planet of Xeroianjj, she finds more than she could have ever imagined.Ilaria Moon lives on an insignificant, wild planet in the Outer Rim. Her life was forever changed when the Empire came to power, and she has made the most of her altered circumstances insofar. However, when two strangers come to her home world, it appears that the change in her life has just begun.
Series: A Happy Ending for Ahsoka Tano [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776616
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

FAR OUTER RIM, THE BORDER OF WILD SPACE

Xeroianjj was a small, insignificant planet that had manage to escape the notice of the rest of the galaxy due to being, well, useless. Its surface was a labyrinth of shallow creeks lined and separated by dense plateaus of brown daggergrass that grew over three meters tall, with edges sharp enough to cut flesh to the bone. Bottom-feeding crustaceans and long, slimy fish that no one had bothered to name lived in the muddy green waters. The only thing that broke the dangerous line of daggergrass was the livimmae trees, forming a dense forest that covered almost half the planet. They were massive and ancient nearly beyond comprehension. The smaller ones, near the edge of the forest, were at least ten meters in diameter. As far as anyone could tell, the farther into the forest, the larger the livimmae trees grew, with some being recorded as up to fifty meters in diameter. However, no one dared to go more than a few klicks into the forest. Those that did never came back.

That was because of the yarkiokkajj.

The yarkiokkajj were the apex predator of the planet. Large, slithering reptiles the size of LAATs, with wingspans double their length that allowed them to soar high into the livimmae trees. They were covered in dense, impenetrable scales that allowed them to move through the daggergrass without being harmed. It was they who inhabited the forest of livimmae trees, and they who picked off any that dared trespass too far or wander the marshes at night.

The only higher lifeforms on the planet were the few small colonies that lived in huts along the edge of the forest. The inhabitants of such colonies lived simple lives with relatively little technology, spending most of their time merely working their harsh environment to survive.

However, all of that was before the rise of the Empire.

With the rise of the Empire, certain war-mongering pockets grew richer. And by happenchance, one such warmonger by the name of Donovan Conrad discovered the desolate planet. He saw the expanse of marshes, the towering trees, and an inexplicable opportunity. When the yarkiokkajj could be forgotten, which for a man of Conrad’s means was easy to do, the landscape itself was peaceful and relaxing. The planet maintained a temperate climate year-round. It was perfect.

He and some of his friends got together and began to build it: The Resort. The idea was simple: to build a place for the rich and powerful to relax and feel “at one with nature.” Sure, other resorts already existed for people with such expansive means, but very few of those were devoted entirely to relaxation. And, considering how much stress the rich and powerful were under, it only made sense to Conrad that a resort for relaxation should be built.

Money could do anything, especially on a planet as ripe for the taking as Xeroianjj.

Within months of the establishment of the Empire, Conrad’s vision became reality. He had hundreds of square kilometers of the livimmae trees at the edge of the forest cut down, and where the natural barrier between forest and marsh was, he hauled in dirt and materials until he had enough kilometers of flat earth ripe for the development. On the side of his new firm ground facing the marsh is where he built The Resort, a swath of lavish interconnected buildings trimmed and furnished from the wood of the fallen trees. Reaching out from The Resort and into the marsh was long, suspended docks, again furnished from the felled trees to create a more relaxing, natural look.

One thing Conrad recognized about a good resort was that one thing was necessary for the guests: the ability to seek more less…sightly elements if they desired.

So, of his cleared land, only a third was devoted to the lavish saloons and lodging of The Resort itself. That third was walled off (again with more polished wood left over from the felled livimmae trees—there was plenty, after all) and behind it was a smaller, seedier town that could be accessed through small, hidden doors lining the wall. The small town was (very originally) referred to as Resort Town.

Resort Town served a multitude for purposes. For one, it provided a place near The Resort for the former-colonist-newly-indentured-slaves to live when they were not at work within or for The Resort. (It had not taken much blaster-fire to round up and relocate the colonists. Conrad liked that—it was considerably cheaper than buying slaves.) Resort Town also offered space for storing necessities such as supplies and the uglier transports that they arrived on. Conrad also made sure that certain, less slightly but still-desirable elements such as spice, gambling, and prostitutes could be found in Resort Town when the more thrill-seeking guest wanted a break from the serenity of the private marsh resort.

And what kept the inhabitants of Resort Town in check? The battalion of Imperial stormtroopers housed there to protect any prominent members of the Empire that happened to visit. They were housed in the “nicer” district of the town.

Of course, these were not the only security measure. In addition, Conrad had his own array of hired guns and bounty hunters to handle any further disturbances that may occur.

The yarkiokkajj had been less of a problem than he expected. As it turned out, they were not a fan of high-powered blaster fire and precise targeting. After a few of them had been killed, the others fled the area, and were rarely seen except for maybe a black spec flying high over the marsh in the distance.

Conrad had the yarkiokkajj that had been killed preserved and put on display throughout The Resort for the guest to admire and to enhance the natural elements. Even he had to admit that there was a certain savage elegance in the way their hides glimmered in the light, complimenting the pale tan-yellow hue of the livimmae tree wood. Sometimes he wondered how thrilling it may be to hunt them, but that was a venture that would have to wait until The Resort was more established.

Within three years of the opening of The Resort, Conrad had already made back his investment and a wealthy profit. After all, even the rich and powerful needed to relax.

He was a happy man.

“What do you think?” Harland inquired in a whisper. Even his whisper seemed far too loud to her sensitive hearing. His brown cloak covered his face, but Ahsoka could still feel his trepidation within the Force. He was young, one of the first Imperial deserters, and it was his first “real” mission for the Rebellion.

They rode in the cargo bay of a supply transport headed for The Resort located on Xeroianjj, where she hoped to recruit an Imperial Commander to their cause and learn more about those that visited the place. It was dangerous for her to be in such a place, but then and again, everywhere was. It was an opportunity they couldn’t afford to miss. And there was something else…something in the Force...

Whatever it was, the feeling she had would have to wait until they were safely hidden in Resort Town.

“I think this will be a breath of fresh air. A new opportunity,” she replied calmly, quietly. They were not the only ones in the cargo hold. Five others, those with nowhere else to go, were also on their way to Resort Town to try their luck—to find a way to survive. It was up to Ahsoka and Harland to blend in as another pair of defeated refugees. “We will be landing soon.”

Due to Conrad’s obsession with the appearance of seamlessness at The Resort, all non-guest ships were only allowed to arrive at night, with minimal lights as to not ruin the beauty of the night sky. _The experience_. Or so that’s what she had heard some members of the supply crew mockingly repeat.

It was not long before they landed and were gruffly escorted off the ship, away from the yard that was lined with storage warehouses, and towards the shambling maze that was Resort Town. As they followed, they others, Ahsoka scanned her surroundings, taking as much in as possible.

The shipyard was of a smaller size, with only two other cargo freighters at the moment--not surprising considering it was only for supplies and Resort Town, the inhabitants of which would hardly be able to afford ships of their own. The yard was directly connected to two storage warehouses—no doubt for The Resort—and the rest of it was protected with high-voltage electric fence. Crude, but effective, especially in a small area without much technology among the residents. Still, if it were her shipyard, she would have preferred to use a ray shield. Perhaps that would have disrupted Conrad’s “natural” aesthetic.

Above, the night sky shimmered brilliantly without the excess light pollution usually provided by large cities. Four small moons were dotted across the sky, two silver, one a light purple, and the largest one a pale orange. To their left was the wall that separated the town, warehouses, and cargo yard from The Resort. Everywhere else was Resort Town and beyond that, the trees that loomed like skyscrapers on Coruscant. The thought gave her a painful twinge in her stomach.

“Good luck,” laughed one of the crew members ushering them out of the gate of the shipyard, reactivating it with the press of a button once they were all out.

Harland paused outside the gate with the others. “What a weird place.”

Privately, Ahsoka agreed. The town was a patchwork of low wooden buildings and dirt streets. Most of the streets were dark, but if she strained her eyes, she could make out the faint lights at the other end of the town where she knew the cantinas would be. Her datapad had told her as much.

“Let’s go,” she said, starting down the road at a casual walk, as if she had walked that dark street a thousand times before. The air was sickly sweet with the scent of wet mud and tinged with the sourness of excrement, vomit, and trash. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. It was bad, but not as bad as the lower levels of Coruscant. “The saloons are at the other end. We need to get moving.”

They walked in silence, each listening for any sign of trouble. Harland seemed much more at ease at finally being out of the cargo hold, and Ahsoka remembered with amusement how he hated flying. It reminded her of Obi-Wan.

The commander that she was hoping to recruit was quickly climbing the ranks under the supervision of Imperial Fleet Admiral Sartan, whom liked the visit The Resort whenever possible, taking choice commanders with him from time to time. Of course, the commanders did not stay within the walls of The Resort, but instead in the base building behind the warehouses that housed the small platoon stationed there.

They were only within The Resort when Admiral Sartan needed them to be at his immediate disposal.

The two stormtroopers standing guard outside the Imperial housing didn’t bat an eye at them. They obviously didn’t think security was too much of a concern in Resort Town, a fact that Ahsoka mentally filed away.

They had arrived almost three standard weeks before they were supposed to meet the commander in question, partly to give them plenty of time to scout him out, partly to give them time to learn more about the Resort. The commander, Zielinski, had reached out to them first, and Ahsoka had no intention of meeting him without finding out as much about him as possible, and with some digging, she had learned that he frequented a cantina called Scales at the far end of town.

For this mission, she had swapped out her armor for peasant clothes and a cloak, with her lightsabers hidden in the folds of the fabric. Her things, such as rations and a bedroll, she kept in a worn backpack on her shoulders. Harland was similarly attired, so they appeared to be just another couple of poor refugees.

As they neared the downtown area, the streets began to grow lighter and busier. There was the occasional street vendors and performers, the latter mostly female twi’lek and human dancers in revealing attire. Ahsoka watched a man stop one of the dancers—a pretty human female—and whisper something in her ear. She grabbed his hand and they disappeared into a nearby doorway. Okay, maybe not strictly performers. They even passed a togruta with stark black and white markings, dancing in attire colored so that it appeared to blend with her markings and give her the illusion of being naked. Ahsoka felt her lekku grow hot as they passed.

“This place is…” Harland began, and trailed off at a loss for words.

“A game,” said Ahsoka tartly. “A playpen set up by Conrad so that his guests can have somewhere to go if they get bored.”

They found Scales by following the boisterous laughing, yelling, and singing intermingled with clinking glasses. Like all the others buildings in Resort Town, it was wooden. It had large, open, rectangular windows that revealed the crowds and warm yellow light inside. Outside was an array of wooden benches, which already had a few unconscious occupants.

“Well, this place is popular,” said Harland as they approached. He pushed his way through the wooden swinging door, holding it open for Ahsoka.

The cantina was rather larger than it appeared to be on the outside. Booths lined the front wall to the corners on either side of the door. The bar itself was at the back of the room, with additional tables between it and the booths. A full sabacc table was nested to the side of the bar. In fact, the entire place was so crowded that Ahsoka struggled to find a free seat even with her sharp eyesight.

“There,” said Harland, raising his voice over the roar of the crowd and pointing towards the end of the bar near the sabacc table. “I think I see two stools.”

 _Not ideal, but it’ll have to do_ , Ahsoka thought grimly. She didn’t like having her back to the door, but she nodded in agreement, and Harland led the way through the crowd. She noticed that the crowd was mostly males, and mostly humans at that. _This must be where the Imperials like to hang out._

They sat down, squeezing between the other patrons, and waited. At the moment, only a very overwhelmed light blue female twi’lek was behind the bar, fixing drinks at an impressive rate.

“Ilaria!” A deep, drunken voice boomed behind them from the sabacc table. “How is it that every time I come into this place, you are more beautiful?”

Ahsoka turned to see a very pretty human woman with a serving tray approach the sabacc table. Her hair was a golden waterfall in the yellow lights of the bar, and she had a dignified, ageless face, although, Ahsoka thought that the woman was probably close to her own age. Her light pink lips gave the drunken player a light, playful smile. “ _Chas_ , you have to stop flattering me,” she said in a voice that matched her smile.

“I will stop complimenting your beauty the day I die,” he answered, swaying slightly and holding up his glass for a refill.

“I’m sure,” she replied, delicately plucking the glass from his hand and addressing the rest of the table, “Anymore drinks here? No? I’ll be back in a moment.”

She twirled around and made her way back to the bar. She put the tray on a counter behind the bar and the glass beside it, turning around and smiling pleasantly at Ahsoka and Harland. Her eyes were a startling deep grey, like storm clouds, and they shone as they quickly moved between the two of them. “May I get you something to drink?”

“Whatever you recommend,” Harland answered, pulling out the credits.  
Ilaria nodded and reached for a few glasses. There was something knowing and playful about everything she did—from her small smile to her twinkling eyes, as if she were in on some inside joke from the rest of the world. “I take it you two just arrived?”

“Is it that obvious?” Ahsoka asked with a laugh.

“Only a little.” Ilaria deposited two frothing, light-brown drinks in front of them.

“Scaleale—our signature specialty. Be careful. The aftertaste is a little bitter. But you’ll get used to it if you stick around. If you’ll excuse me…”

And with that, she refilled the sabacc player’s drink bright orange drink, said something quietly to the twi’lek bartender that not even Ahsoka could hear over the noise, and reentered the chaos of the dining room. She watched Ilaria as she went, expertly winding her way through the crowds of much larger men, like shimmersilk on a dancer.

“Gah! T-that’s awful,” sputtered Harland, setting down his drink, his face twisted sourly. “A little bitter?”

“It can’t be that bad,” said Ahsoka, lifting her own drink and taking a cautious sip. It wasn’t for the first second, and when she swallowed the bitterness hit her mouth so hard it felt dry. She suppressed a cough and cleared her throat. “Okay, maybe it is.”

Ilaria reappeared behind the bar, taking one look at their expressions and let out a short laugh. “Hold on, let me grab you two some water.” A moment later, two cool glasses appeared in front of them, and Ilaria was gone again.

“At least she’s good at her job,” Harland muttered, drinking half his glass. He then added in a quieter tone, “What do you think?”

“This place definitely has potential,” said Ahsoka, wishing they had a booth. It would be a lot easier to keep an eye out for persons of interest if they didn’t have to observe in quick, fractured glances over their shoulders. “We need to be patient.”

“Damn you!” an angry shout came from farther down the bar, causing all conversation in the vicinity to grind to a halt. An off-duty stormtrooper by the looks of his haircut, was covered in scaleale, and the offending glass lay on its side on the bar top.

“I-I’m so sorry,” the flustered twi’lek stammered, reaching for a towel. “I didn’t mean to-“

“You clumsy bantha!” shouted the stormtrooper, cutting her off. “I should have you reported.”

That only made the girl more frantic, and Ahsoka felt her anger spark as she watched the girl continue to stammer as her trembling hands mopped up the mess. “Please sir, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t…”

And then, in whisked Ilaria, appearing beside the twi’lek and placing a reassuring hand on her arm, subtly nudging her back. “It appears we had an accident here,” she observed, somehow still not losing her playful smile in the face of the angry stormtrooper. If anything, her grin grew as she added, “You see, sometimes when Janae here is around handsome young men, she tends to make things a little _wet_. May I get you a towel and another drink on the house?”

There was a pregnant silence, as by this point most of the bar was listening, and then the men erupted in a deafening, hooting uproar. Even Harland allowed himself an appreciative smile, and Ahsoka felt her lekku grow hot as she grasped the joke.

But, it seemed to work. The angry stormtrooper melted into laughter, and happily accepted his new drink as his comrades clapped him on the back.

“Those are the ones you want,” the old man sitting next to Harland said sagely, using his glass to point at Ilaria, who was now helping serve the crowd that was swelling around Janae. “The ones that look like angels but aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, if you know what I mean.” He laughed at his own joke.

Ahsoka could feel Harland’s discomfort as he reluctantly agreed and clinked glasses with the old man, who then took things one step forward and hailed Ilaria over to them. Her cheeks were flushed rosy from the excitement and warmth of the bar, and she leaned her elbows on the bar in front of them with that infallible pleasant smile. At certain angles, her eyes reflected golden in the warm yellow lights, giving them the appearance of glowing, and Ahsoka realized that the deep grey of her irises was held back by the ring of gold around her pupils. They were impossible not to look at, and Ahsoka found herself thinking of the way sunlight beamed down from storm clouds.

“Ilaria.” The old man said her name like it was an order. “Ilaria, when are you going to settle down?”

“Settle down?” Ilaria repeated, raising an eyebrow. She went on teasingly, “Why, Olen, why would I settle down? Come now, you know I’m far too young and beautiful for that.”

“Exactly! You need a man that appreciates you, darling.”

Ilaria gestured at the bar. “I don’t think I’m short on men that _appreciate_ me.”

Olen gave Ahsoka and Harland a look of exasperation. “She’s so difficult.” He then clapped a hand on Harland’s shoulder and goes, “A sort of man like this young man—he would appreciate you!”

“I’m sure,” said Ilaria, looking so thoroughly unimpressed that Ahsoka almost felt bad for Harland. “Pray tell me, what’s his name?”

“Uh—what’s your name kid?”

“Efran,” said Harland, using his alias and appearing to be entirely uncomfortable with the situation.

“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, sir,” said Ahsoka, deciding things were getting too out of hand. She clasped one of Harland’s hands in hers and gave them a small squeeze. He was smart, he would go along with it. “Efran is my boyfriend.”

Ilaria’s eyes narrowed slightly at this, but her expression almost immediately regained its cheery composure. “Look at you Olen, throwing taken men at me! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do have a job to do.”

With Ilaria gone, Olen directed all of his attention at Ahsoka and Harland. He asked them a few questions about their relationship, and luckily, he was inebriated enough not to realize that they were making up their answers. That, or he just didn’t care because he soon launched into stories about growing up on Xeroianjj and how hard it was to survive before “the great man Conrad” showed up and built The Resort.

Ahsoka only half listened to the stories, fairly sure that he was making most of them up, and kept her attention focused on the bar around her. She was taking mental notes of every Imperial there and, in the meantime, enjoyed watching Ilaria work. The more she watched, the more she realized the delicately powerful hold Ilaria had on the men in the bar. A smile here, a touch on the arm there, a joke on the occasion. She played them into pleasant moods and appeasement with practiced ease.

She seemed to be avoiding coming back near Olen, though. And sure enough, the one time she did, he hailed her over to them again. By now, he was quite intoxicated.

“Ilaria, you tell them! Isn’t life better with The Resort here? Don’t have to worry about getting eaten by yarkiokkajj anymore, eh?”

Something seemed to harden in Ilaria’s visage, and then it was gone. “Yes, loads better,” she agreed. “No more tromping through swamps or cutting daggergrass.” She looked like she had more to add, but none came.

“You are from here?” Ahsoka asked, somewhat surprised.

“Born and raised,” Ilaria said, her tone edged with weariness. “Excuse me…”

The night wore on, and the bar began to empty. Eventually—thankfully—Olen left, leaving Ahsoka and Harland in relative peace.

“We should probably find a place to sleep,” she sighed, weary from the traveling. She had not slept on the flight to Xeroianjj. She flagged down Ilaria, who appeared to be getting ready to leave for the night as well. “Do you know where we could find a place to stay?”

“Ah temporary or permanent?”

“Temporary for now.”

Ilaria nodded, glancing out the window. The blackness of the night was turning grey—the sun was starting to rise. “Yeah, they call it The House. We’re very original with our names here. I guess that’s what happens when there’s only one town on the entire planet. It’s a few streets over. Here, I’m leaving now. I can show you.” She grabbed a backpack that had been stored behind the bar, and headed for the door, holding it open for Harland and Ahsoka as they followed. “Don’t forget the inventory, Janae!” she called before letting the door swing shut.

She led them through much quieter streets until they came to a one of the few two-story buildings in the town, where she stopped at the door. Now that they were both standing, Ahsoka realized that their eyes were almost dead level. Without the bar separating them or the distraction of other patrons, Ahsoka found her gaze irrevocably drawn to Ilaria’s eyes. They were seriously impossible to not look at.

“This is it,” said Ilaria, her eyes flicking to the ground, her voice still polite and distant. She shifted her weight. “I hope you two find what you’re looking for.” She gave them a slight nod and disappeared around the corner.

Inside the small, dim lobby, they inquired about a room and were promptly and gruffly told by the receptionist that there was none available, and nowhere else to get a room in the town unless they “felt like paying one of the girls.”

“Great,” said Harland, dark circles under his eyes.

They stood in the street, trying to decide what to do.

“Let’s head to the outskirts of the town,” said Ahsoka. “We might find an abandoned building.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach where the solid, artificial ground gave way to the forest. The town was more-so long rather than wide. There was a clear spot where the dirt simply stopped, dropping off a meter into water that was painted a silver-pink in the fading moonslight.

None of her reports had noted that the entire forest was in water. The great tan trunks of the livimmae trees sprouted right out of the water, and protruding between the trunks were knobby roots shaped like knees. They looked minuscule in comparison to the tree trunks, even though they rose anywhere from two to six meters out of the water.

Harland, who had also stopped, let out a sign of appreciation. “Okay, now that’s cool. I can’t believe none of the reports mentioned the forest was in water.”

“They may not have known,” said Ahsoka. “This planet has never been…”

She trailed off as she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. There, not even twenty meters away, a figure in a grey cloak was emerging from behind one of the buildings. It stopped short, regarding them, it’s face impossible to discern from the shadow of the hood.

And then Ahsoka felt it—something in the Force reached out, brushing her mind like shimmersilk. Curious, tentative. It only lasted a moment.

The figure took off for the forest, leaping from the solid ground and landing nimbly on one of the roots sticking up out of the water. It stood there studying them a moment longer, a shadow, and then bounded off into the trees, jumping from root to root until it was gone.

Ahsoka reached out with the Force in a desperate attempt to reach the figure again, but all she felt was the trees.

Harland stared in amazement. “What…who was that?”

She hardly heard him, her thoughts running over a single question: _Could someone else have survived?_

Staring after the figure, Ahsoka was suddenly intimately aware of the life Force teeming around her, seeping from the forest like leaves in tea. She was beginning to feel that the Resort was not the only reason the Force had brought her to Xeroianjj.

“I don’t know.


	2. Chapter 2

Ilaria ran faster than she could ever remember, using the Force to give her balance and power and she dived deeper into the forest.  
Someone had seen her. Worse. Someone had _sensed_ her.

How could she have been so careless?

As she ran, she could imagine the Empire crashing down through the forest, tearing up every tree—mowing over the roots. She just endangered _everyone_.

Working at the Resort and the influx of refugees it had brought with its establishment had given her disturbing scope of what happened to the galaxy outside of Xeroianjj. Most of the stories were bad, in some way or another, but the ones that always hung in her ears were the ones about the Jedi. She had never heard of them before, but when she heard of others that could move objects with their mind and bend other beings to their will, she had felt a strange sense of hope. She hadn’t been alone. It was from those whispered stories that she learned what she had always referred to as the Energy was known everywhere else in the galaxy as the Force. At least she had been somewhat close in naming it.

And then the rest of the stories came, very different between refugees, the Imperial officers, and the gangsters that came through the Resort. The first regarded them with a sense of hope and sorrow and sometimes contempt, the latter two with a sense of triumph and always contempt. From the latter she would occasionally hear stories, boasts about how many Jedi they had managed to kill, if any at all.

All in all, Ilaria had learned that she was not alone, and she was hunted by beings that radiated such vileness that it made her skin crawl.

She should’ve just gone to Else’s to rest and change.

The farther into the forest she ran, the higher the roots became, until she was bounding about, ten-twenty-thirty meters above the water. However, she was used to it, and she hardly had to think about where her feet landed as her mind reeled.

How could she have been so stupid?

She had felt that something was different about the togruta girl from the beginning, and yet she was still stupid enough to try reading her. I’ve grown arrogant.

Finally, she sensed them.

She stopped on one root, and waited.

It didn’t take long for the flock to find her.

The yarkiokkajj came dropping out of the uppermost foliage, gliding towards her with deadly speed, their wings humming as air buffeted against them. Their different scales gleamed like polished wood—some the same grey-green as the water, some the same tan as the tree trunks, some the same white-grey of clouds, and some as vibrant and rich as the foliage high above. Except in the moonslight they all reflected the same soft silver as the water.

They circled around her, some landing on the lowest tree branches, some on the knobby knee-roots, and some simply used their massive talons to cling to the sides of the tree trunks.

“Sorry I was late, guys,” said Ilaria as one yarkiokkajj swooped down and landed nimbly in front of her, each foot on a different root knee. It swung its diamond shaped head around, its pink barbed tongue darting out if its mouth to taste the air around Ilaria. She could feel his presence pressing into the Force around her, his consciousness reaching out to hers.

“Hi, Braetis,” she replied aloud, reaching a hand forward and stroking his massive head, careful to go with the grain of the small, sharp scales there. His large yellow eyes blinked slowly at her. “Can you give me a ride the rest of the way?”

In response, he adjusted his wings so that she could jump on his back with a little help from the Force. After all, they were the ones that showed her how to use it. They expected her to use it.

Braetis launched himself into the air with a powerful leap, and the others followed suit. Their mighty wings made the air vibrate, and they flew deeper into the forest, farther from The Resort. Farther from the poison.

The yarkiokkajj had evolved to communicate telepathically, as they were a Force-sensitive species incapable of speaking Basic. However, after years of Ilaria speaking to them in Basic out of habit, they had begun to learn the words, more or less, and could sometimes even impress them upon her telepathically, resulting in a telepathic conversation akin to speaking. Still, they generally preferred to communicate as they always had: through the sharing of mental images and sensations.

See, that was something no one had bothered to learn about the yarkiokkajj before, and something Ilaria had only learned from spending all her free time with them since as long as she could remember. They were beings deeply attuned to the Force, to Xeroianjj. They lived in flocks, each connected by the Force. They communicated by pressing feelings, images, and experiences to each other’s minds through the Force. And, they had been kind enough to teach Ilaria how to do it as well. After all, once you were a part of their flock, you were one of them.

The sun was beginning to come up in earnest now, and great golden beams fell through the treetops high above like silk. The yarkiokkajj unique colors were beginning to shine, bathed in a golden glow. Ahead loomed a particularly large livimmae tree with a trunk the same diameter as the Resort Town shipyard.

Ilaria’s ride angled upwards with the rest of the flock, and soon they touched down at the top of the trunk. The older livimmae trees were so massive that the top of their trunks formed their own small forest of smaller tan trunks as the uppermost branches reached for the sky directly from the top of the main trunk. These faux forests at the uppermost level of the trees were where the yarkiokkajj liked to nest. Scattered between the vertical branches-- about the size of regular tree trunks—were the large nests made from daggergrass and mud that had been harvested from the marshlands.

It was here among the flock that Ilaria had built her own house, using the vertical branches as supports and weaving herself a roof and walls from daggergrass (which she had to wear special gloves to do). Her house was small, a single room with an open doorway and a few small windows that she had woven into the sides. Inside, there was a small bed, a table she had built from the wood discarded by the construction of The Resort, and a few shelves that were woven from daggergrass that held her other necessities.

Ilaria dropped her backpack on the ground beside her bed and fell back onto the hard mattress, folding her hands behind her head and closing her eyes as she thought.

No one—not even the togruta—could have followed them that deep into the forest, especially without the yarkiokkajj flock noticing. And, she was fairly sure that the togruta had not recognized her, so the immediate danger was gone.

As far as Ilaria could remember, no other Force sensitive beings had ever been on Xeroianjj, save for her and the yarkiokkajj. So, she had always been able to reach out and brush the minds of others, read them just as she read the yarkiokkajj, without them noticing. Until now.

She measured her breathing and let her mind slip away into the Force of the forest around her. She could feel the happy playfulness of the yarkiokkajj younglings a few nests down, and their mother’s annoyance as they spilled out of the nest and ran into her. She could feel the deep, constant hum of the tree they nested in, the overwhelming sense of peace among the members of the flock that sunbathed in the patches of light that were beginning to poke through the canopy.

And, she could hear it, the light, mesmerizing music coming from the small pouch nestled underneath her sleeping mat. She sat up, freeing it from its hiding spot with a tug and gently pouring out its singular contents into her hand.

The small crystal was a light, oceanic blue in the dim light of her home, and it shone with impossible depth as she rolled it about her palm. She fell asleep holding it tightly against her chest, listening to its melody.

It was almost midday when Ahsoka woke Harland up. They had found a small abandoned house (more like a shed) at the edge of the town earlier that morning as she predicted, and she had been too preoccupied with her thoughts to take the first sleeping shift.

Despite the excitement of spotting their unknown grey Force-user, Harland was asleep almost as soon as he laid down on the ground, using his cloak as a pillow.

Ahsoka sat and meditated while he slept, letting the Force guide her. She reached out for the town and The Resort, but they seemed dim and inconsequential to the energy exuding from the forest. The livimmae trees had a deep and powerful lull, and detecting anything beyond their ancient presence was nearly impossible. She let their energy, the deep sense of life Force they possessed, pull her in.

She was in a small village at the edge of the trees, a bright sunset painting everything in golden light. The village was only a handful of small wood and grass huts balanced precariously on the tree roots that jutted out of the water, serving as stilts for the small structures. They were connected by a series of twine and grass bridges, and a little human girl teetered precariously as she crossed one of the bridges, holding onto the twine as it swayed. She could not have been much older than three, and her face was creased with a delighted smile as she gazed into the water below. Oddly enough, her hair was streaked and caked with mud so that it clung to her head, its true color indiscernible.

The scene shifted, and Ahsoka found herself racing across tree branches as wide as Coruscant sidewalks, high in the forest canopy. She leapt from branch to branch, making her way deeper into the forest, occasionally glancing at the murky water and patient roots below, as if they were waiting for her to fall.

And yet, she was happy. She felt an overwhelming sense of joy as she leapt from branch to branch, gradually climbing higher. She felt free, unburdened by gravity. When was the last time she had felt that unencumbered joy?

The scene faded, and Ahsoka opened her eyes.

“What are you trying to tell me?” she whispered, but no answer came. The trees had told her all they wanted.

Even though she had not slept, she felt rejuvenated, and it was then that she woke Harland.

“It’s time to get going,” she said, handing him a dry ration.

He sat up and accepted it. “Where to?”

“Let’s try Scales again,” said Ahsoka, standing up and dusting off her clothes. “Maybe our new friend Ilaria can give us some useful information.”

“If she’s working,” said Harland through a mouthful of ration.

They wandered back through the streets towards downtown, and found them to be mostly deserted, which gave Ahsoka a thrill of unease. Harland said nothing, but she noticed that under his robe his was clutching his blaster.

Scales was a completely different scene from the previous night. It was nearly deserted, with the only patrons being a handful of off-duty stormtroopers at a corner booth. Ilaria was behind the bar as Ahsoka had hoped, polishing glasses. Her hair was done so that it looked like she was wearing a golden crown of braids, and she frowned slightly as she inspected one of the glasses as if it had said something rather unsavory.

She must have been deep in thought, because she didn’t notice them until they were halfway across the bar. She startled, dropping the glass that she held. It shattered on the floor, and the stormtroopers let out a chuckle. One even clapped.

“Sorry,” she said as Ahsoka and Harland took their seats at the bar. “Just one second.” She bent down and began picking up the glass, muttering something in a language Ahsoka didn’t recognize.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you,” said Ahsoka.

“Oh, it’s fine. That was my fault anyways.” She gingerly dumped the glass in a waste bin and wiped her hands on her apron, letting out a sigh. “I had a long night. My neighbors got into a screaming match and managed to cut my sleep in half. Anyways, what can I help you with?”

“We’re looking for work,” said Harland, leaning an elbow on the bar. “And we thought you might know of something.”

Ilaria frowned slightly, studying them each for a moment. When she wasn’t smiling, she had an intense, almost intimidating expression. “Most everyone worth a stang here works at The Resort during the day,” she said at last, her voice dropping out of her polite, customer-service tone, and Ahsoka found that she preferred it over her fake one. She motioned to Ahsoka, “I’m sorry, what’s your name again? I don’t think I caught it last night.”

“Suellen,” Ahsoka lied.

“Hm, you might have a chance of getting work at The Resort as a waitress or something. Conrad doesn’t like using droids, and he would love to have a pretty togruta like yourself to show off.” She shifted her gaze to Harland. “You can try the warehouse, but I don’t know if you’ll find anything. We’re getting a lot of people that come here looking for work.”

Harland nodded. “What’s the pay like?”

That got a dry laugh out of Ilaria. “Rations are the credit out here. You get enough to survive, no more and sometimes less. If you work in The Resort, you have better chances of getting something more, but it’s normally not enough to make a difference. That’s why the girls that waitress at The Resort normally moonlight on the streets in town.”

“Why don’t you work at the resort?” Ahsoka inquired.

“Sometimes I do,” said Ilaria with a shrug. “It’s wherever Conrad wants me.”

“So, Conrad decides where everyone works here?”

Ilaria leaned closer and lowered her voice, her eyes cutting to the table of stormtroopers once before she spoke, “Conrad owns everyone here. If he says do something—work somewhere, you do it. The only way you leave is if you have enough credits or someone buys you. Not that anyone really tries to leave. Normally people that come here do so because they have nowhere else to go. If you can leave, I suggest you do.”

Harland’s brown eyes widened, and he exchanged a glance with Ahsoka. They had basically just made themselves slaves. Wouldn’t be the first time, she reflected.

“We don’t have anywhere else,” she said. “How do I get a job at The Resort?”

“Not dressed like that,” said Ilaria bluntly. “Conrad sends his assistant to come here every few rotations to pick out who’s working at The Resort and when. If you want to work as a waitress, you’ve got to impress him. Luckily for you, you’re new and pretty. That’ll get his attention, you’ll just have to get dolled up. There’s another togruta that lives here. She might have something that she would be willing to sell to you.”

“Where can I find her?”

“It would probably be better if I took you to her,” said Ilaria carefully. “The waitresses here are their own…flock. They don’t always take to newcomers too well. As for you, Efran, you might want to head out to the warehouses soon. If you want to get any rations tomorrow, you’ll probably have to work through the night. Tell them that Ilaria from Scales sent you, and don’t kriff up the job. I don’t need the manager getting cross with me.”

He agreed, and giving Ahsoka one last look, left. For now, they had to live as the refugee-turned-slaves they were pretending to be. She briefly contemplated were the line between pretending and reality really was.

“I get off in about two standard hours,” said Ilaria as the doors swung shut behind him. “Then we can go see if Tennille is home.” She filled a glass with water and set it in front of Ahsoka. “Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” said Ahsoka. She wrapped her fingers around the glass, cool and smooth. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you helping us?”

Ilaria went back to polishing her glasses, her expression thoughtful. “I think the galaxy would be a much better place if we all helped each other a little more. Plus, it’s not like it costs me anything to help you.”

“I can respect that.”

Her new friend walked away, and Ahsoka found herself thinking about the way Ilaria had called her pretty, as if it were a simply matter of fact and not an opinion. Occasionally, Ilaria would make small talk, but the cantina steadily grew busier (apparently they did a lunch special), and soon she had once again presumed her serving persona, her words honeyed as she interacted with the customers. She was an actress in her own right.

Two hours later, Ahsoka found herself standing in the small one-room home belonging to the togruta she had seen on the street the previous night.

It was modestly but comfortably decorated, with the bed being the centerpiece of the room. Sheer white curtains surrounded it, falling from the ceiling and offering some degree of privacy. At the moment, two were tied aside and Tennille was comfortably perched on the edge of the bed. She was a few years older than Ahsoka, and her skin was a deep black. Each cheek had white circles, and the rest of her pattern swirled around her body in thin, curving lines. She only wore a sheer black shift and a simple silver headpiece. Her deep, dark eyes studied Ahsoka with interest.

“You’re very pretty,” she said at last, “But you need to show it off more. Take off that wretched cloak, for starters.”

“Be nice,” Ilaria chided from the side of the room where she was going through Tennille’s wardrobe, quickly flipping through the outfits. She had already pulled out a few and laid them aside. “Not everyone has your expertise.”

“And that’s why I’m helping you.”

 _That and the credits I offered_ , thought Ahsoka dryly.

Ilaria must have thought the same thing, because she rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah. Well, you heard the boss, Su. Off with the cloak.”

Thankful that she had taken extra care to hide her lightsabers in secret folds that had been sewn into her cloak, she took it off a set it aside.

Tennille got up and walked a circle around her, inspecting her like a prized pufferpig. “You just want to waitress?”

“Yes,” answered Ahsoka, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious. She was vividly remembering the time Anakin had “given” her to the zygerrian queen.

In response, the more experienced togruta let out a snort and went back to her seat on the edge of the bed. “What are you thinking, Ilaria?”

“We need something that brings out her eyes,” came the muffled reply as Ilaria fished something out of the back of the closet. “And not too revealing. Do you have a turquoise or teal in here? I thought you did.” She straightened up for a moment, tucking some stray hairs from her braid behind her ear. “Remember, the one with the skirt with the splits?”

“Try the bottom right.”

“Skirt with the splits?” Ahsoka repeated. Not that she was overly modest by any means, but she didn’t like being dressed but like some prized object.

“Yeah,” said Ilaria, already digging through the closet again. “You have long legs. Might as well show them off. Ah, here it is.”

She produced a dress of turquoise and grey, holding it up for Ahsoka to see. “See how the slits go up to the hip? Perfect for showing off long legs. And with the open back they won’t be able to resist you.”

Ahsoka accepted the dress from her, running her hands over the soft fabric. “All of this just to be a waitress?”

Tennille laughed cynically. “Where have you been?”

Ilaria shot her a dirty look that would have made anyone second guess their life choices. She then addressed Ahsoka more gently, “All of this is for desire. That is all we have here. That is how we survive. If the men in power desire you, they protect you. They support you. But you have to make them _want_ you.”

“Speaking of,” said Tennille, reclining back on her elbows. “You Commander was asking the morning waitresses about you. Already requesting you to be their primary waitress next week.”

“He’ll live,” said Ilaria.

 _Commander?_ thought Ahsoka. _Could it be?_

“Your Commander?” she asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“He’s not mine,” said Ilaria with another eye roll.

“Miss native has an Imperial Commander that is absolutely in love with her,” explained Tennille with obvious enjoyment and underneath that, a hint of jealousy. “Whenever he’s here, he fawns over her like a moon.”

Ilaria looked up at the ceiling as if she were praying, and let out a deep sigh. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to look out for him. Now if you don’t mind, can we get back to the task at hand?”

“Alright, alright,” said Tennille, returning her attention to Ahsoka. “Are you going to put it on, or just going to keep standing there staring at us?”

“Tennille!” cried Ilaria. “Did it occur to you that she doesn’t want you scrutinizing her while she changes?”

“She’s going to have to get used to it if she’s going to stay here.”

Ilaria gave her a glare, and Tennille made a show of covering her eyes with her hands.

Ilaria made a point to stare at the wall until Suellen had slipped on the dress, and when she finally looked at her, she was struck by just how beautiful she really was. The blue in the dress brought out the jewel-like brilliance of her eyes, and the long slits running up to each hip revealed her lithe legs. She had two white stripes that went across each thigh, like a vine wrapping around a tree trunk.

“Perfect,” she finally managed. She made a point to avert her eyes, but they seemed to keep wanting to track up to Suellen’s gaze. “Yes, that should work.”

“I agree,” said Tennille, already holding out her hand for her credits.

While Ahsoka paid and changed back into her peasant clothes, Ilaria picked up her brown cloak and noticed that it was heavier than it should have been. Interesting. Likely, it had hidden pockets. The real question was: what was in them? She made sure to keep her expression innocent as she passed it to its owner. “Ready?”

Suellen nodded and put it on.

They stepped back outside into the sunlight. The warmth was refreshing after being stuck in the shaded house.

“She was…interesting,” Suellen observed as they walked through the street, pulling her cloak around to cover her exposed legs.

“That’s the word for it,” muttered Ilaria, her thoughts already beginning to wander.

Commander Zielinski was coming back to the Resort soon, as it would seem. She was always careful with the man, as she had quite unintentionally made him fall in love with her. The other girls thought she was insane to keep him at arm’s length. If only they knew. His love was dangerous for her. Ironically enough, any Imperial attention more than a glance was dangerous for her. She just had to make sure when they looked, they never saw the real her.

Ilaria supposed she could have used his feelings to manipulate him, but she didn’t have the heart to. She didn’t feel right using someone so deeply in love with her like that.

So, she walked the fine line of being kind to him without consciously further encouraging his affections.

She didn’t have long to dwell on him, though, because Suellen hit her with a rather unexpected question: “Do you ever want to leave here?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, subconsciously glancing at the forest. “I suppose I do, but there are some things that would be hard to leave behind.”

Suellen had the good sense not to pry any further, for which Ilaria was thankful. She decided to change the subject, “I imagine Efan found a job. Did you two find a place to stay?”

“We found a place at the edge of town.”

Ilaria nodded, a little surprised. Apparently the hotel hadn’t worked out. “That’s good.” She sensed that perhaps the relationship between the couple wasn’t quite what they made it seem, either. But, she couldn’t imagine why they would be lying about it.

She looked at the sun, which was still fairly high in the sky, and estimated that she still had a few hours before she needed to head back to Scales. She also found that she wasn’t quite ready to part ways with Suellen, and inspiration struck her, “Would you want to come over for some tea? If you don’t already have plans. I have some time before work, and my grandmother grows the best aluzia flowers.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ahsoka followed Ilaria, clutching her newest purchase with care through the winding, muddy streets until they were standing in front of a squat, two story building. The windows were open, their wooden shutters like butterfly wings in the street, and from inside wafted the sweet scents of flowers mingled with tangy herbs and a soft, instrumental music.

The locking mechanism on the door was a literal metal lock and key. Ilaria must have noted Ahsoka’s look of surprise, because she said, “Yeah, technology isn’t our strong suit here.”

Inside, the ceilings and walls were the same polished wood, and the packed dirt floor covered with a mats of tightly woven grass. The furniture was a mixture of wood and more woven grass, and the living room, although not large, was comfortable. Brown and tan blankets nested on the grass seats and couch. The living room was connected to the kitchen via the bar, and inside the kitchen, there was a quaint fireplace with a black pot suspended over it. Off to the right of the room was a then-open door to an adjacent room, and on the back wall of the kitchen was a wooden ladder leading to a square-cut hole in the ceiling.

“Else!” Ilaria called, going to the base of the ladder and looking up. “Else, are you on the roof?”

Overhead, Ahsoka heard the creak of wooden boards, and an elderly voice called, “Be right down, love!”

“Else has a garden on the roof,” Ilaria explained, moving to the kitchen and retrieving a trio of clay mugs from one of the cabinets, and a glass jar full of dried white flowers from the other. “That’s where she spends most of her time, and it’s about the only place you can keep a garden in this damn place. You can sit down wherever, we don’t have special seats.”

Ahsoka followed her instruction, sitting down in one of the woven chairs, surprised by how comfortable it was. She watched as Ilaria took some of the dried flowers, crushed them in her palms, and dropped them into each mug.

“Does anyone else live here?”

It was hard to read Ilaria’s expression from the kitchen. “No, just Else and I. My parents aren’t around anymore.” Her tone was measured, and it invited no further questions. If Ilaria had another talent, it was shutting down a conversation she didn’t like. She retrieved the pot from the fire, using a cloth to protect her hand, and poured the steaming water into the mugs.

“I’m sorry,” said Ahsoka, as she accepted her tea from Ilaria. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Ilaria shrugged, taking a seat. “It’s not like it’s a weird question.” She leaned back, blowing gently on her steaming cup. “So, why Xeroianjj of all places? It’s not exactly the ideal place to settle down.”

“Settle down?”

Ilaria cocked her head slightly, as if she was listening to something intently. “Isn’t that why you and your boyfriend came here? Trying to find a place to settle down?”

Right. Of course. Ahsoka found herself silently wishing she had put some more time into filling out her and Harland’s apparent relationship. It was one thing to lie to a drunk old man in a bar, but when confronted with Ilaria’s sharp eyes, she realized that she was playing with something a little more tenuous. She briefly considered telling Ilaria that it was a lie to get Olen to stop pushing Harland on her, but quickly decided against it. She couldn’t keep changing their story, and how else was she supposed to explain them living together and constantly seeing each other?

“Honestly, we have not been able to think that far,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. It had a semi-sweet flavor that wasn’t overpowering, and actually quite nice. “We have just been trying to find somewhere…calm.”

Wow, Ilaria could have an unnerving gaze. Beautiful, but unfathomable, like a queen listening to a subject.

“Calm is relative,” Ilaria said sagely. “Although, I suppose compared to the rest of the galaxy, Xeroianjj is relatively calm.”

The observation struck Ahsoka as strange. “Have you been off of Xeroianjj?”

Something faltered in Ilaria’s visage, and she averted her eyes, studying her mug. “No, but I hear things. It’s kind of hard not to hear things.” She put on a bitter smile, her eyes flicking upwards. “I’ll be the first to admit that my knowledge of the larger galaxy is limited to the clientele that come here.”

Was that regret in her voice? Not that Ahsoka could blame her. Ilaria gave the impression of someone meant for more than a swamp planet at the edge of the Outer Rim.

The wooden staircase creaked, and a reasonably dressed, although hunched, figure with snow-white hair descended the ladder. The woman had a basket of tangy herbs and round, red fruits nestled in one of her elbows, and she was one of the oldest human women Ahsoka had ever seen, especially in the Outer Rim. She peered at them over thick glasses. “I thought I heard another voice!”

Ilaria made the introduction, and Ahsoka added, “You have a lovely home.”

“Oh, stop,” said Else, waving a hand and obviously pleased by the compliment. She retrieved the third mug of tea that Ilaria had poured, the steam fogging her glasses. “It’s not much, but it’s not bad, either. Would you like any food? These waki fruits are perfectly ripe. The gods are pleased this year.”

At the mention of the gods, Ilaria rolled her eyes.

“I am not very hungry,” Ahsoka lied.

“Nonsense!” said Else, already going to work at halving the little fruits. “You young people. You never eat enough. Starve yourself and the gods won’t be so generous next time the bushes come into season.”

Soon, there was a plate of halved waki fruits (which were tart, but good) and little, honeyed pastry puffs on a clay plate, nestled on the wooden table centered between the seats. Else joined them, and with that woman, there was hardly any room for the rest of them to get in another word.

“I remember the day Ari was born,” she was saying, happily munching away, immune to the side-eye she was getting from Ilaria. “Her mother was watching the moons, not listening to the gods, and she thought that it wouldn’t be so soon! We were taking a canoe back from the neighboring colony—we had gone to trade surbahrs for some mudfish filets. Do you know what surbahr crabs are, dear? I suppose you wouldn’t. They’re little flat crustaceans that are great in soups.”

By this point in the story, Ilaria was looking at her tea as if she was hoping it would miraculously turn into liquor instead. Ahsoka resisted the urge to laugh.

Else was undeterred, “And so, we had gone to trade the surbahr crabs for the mudfish filets—which is a day-long journey, mind you—and just when we left the colony, her mother looks at me and goes, ‘Can the moons be wrong?’ I told her that the moons could never be wrong, but of course people could be! And she gave me the funniest look and goes, ‘I think I was wrong.’

“You see, I didn’t quite grasp what she was meaning, and next thing I knew, we had to toss the filets out the canoe to make room for this one!”

She pointed a thumb at Ilaria, who mouthed _I’m sorry_ to Ahsoka.

Still oblivious, Else went on proudly, “Ari here was the first baby born on the water in living memory! Nobody could believe it--we were supposed to show up with the filets and had a baby girl instead! The gods were happy that day, oh yes they were. The sun was shining, and the water was so still, like glass. I will never forget it. It was like a mirror, and we were floating on the sky.” She finished with a fond smile, her eyes lost in the memory.

Ilaria, who looked thoroughly embarrassed, gave Ahsoka another apologetic glance.

She laughed, taken by the absurdity of the situation. That was all of the encouragement Else needed, and for the next few hours Ahsoka listened to stories of Xeroianjj before the Resort was built (most of them centered around embarrassing Ilaria). There seemed to be an endless supply of sweet pastries, waki fruit, and tea, and more than once Ilaria’s cheeks tinged pink with a reluctant blush.

Some nights, Ilaria’s mattress at Else’s was comfortable, and others, she thought it was like sinkmudd, sucking her in and suffocating her. On those nights, it took her hours to sleep, and when she did, she woke up multiple times throughout the night drenched in her own sweat.

It was the dreams.

They said that humans could only dream in the deepest of sleeps, but Ilaria always dreamt when she was halfway between sleeping and awake. The only people who knew about her dreams were her mother, wherever she was, and Else, her adoptive grandmother.

She was walking on a strange planet, where the livimmae trees had been replaced by metal and transparisteel, and the air reeked of fuel, trash, and sour body odor. A high-pitched humming rang in her ears, and she stood on a clear walkway, staring down and down at depths of rocketing speeders and dark windows.

Climbing stairs, stone stairs, surrounded by giant, mighty pillars. The claustrophobic sense of the metal and transparisteel trees had been replaced with open air and stone. Alone, she raced up the stairs.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Above, the blue sky leaked red, and then brown, and them black. Even the stars were gone.

She ran, and ran up the stairs, yelling as her muscles screamed at the effort, and her lungs collapsed in on themselves. She had to make it up the stairs. She had to stop it. But the hard-cut stone was never-ending.

She tripped, and woke with a start, her eyes straining madly against the darkness of her room, her mind automatically reaching out for the presence of the yarkiokkajj before she remembered where she was. Resort Town.

Falling back onto her mattress, she closed her eyes and was once again back at the stone staircase, except this time, she was at the top. She stood, transfixed as she watched a young bearded man stride between the pillars. He wore brown robes, and his head was bowed in thought.

She raced after him, somehow knowing he wouldn’t see her, and listened as he thought,

_The Council is making a mistake. They are betraying their values, what we stand for. We have delved too far into this war, and I am afraid that we will not recognize ourselves when we come out of it._

He had a crisp, Coruscanti accent, and his thoughts were riddled with the image of another: a young man with dark blonde hair and a troubled, pained expression, creasing the scar over one of his eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked the bearded man, suddenly making herself known to him. Her every nerve screamed that he was important, someone she should know, and yet, his face was foreign to her.

He paused, turning to study her quizzically. Except, he didn’t see her at all. She knew this, as his gaze passed through her.

He shrugged, and continued on his way, his thoughts continuing among their troubled path.

Ilaria didn’t find a dreamless sleep until the sun was already rising, and even then, when she woke, she was covered in sweat.


	4. Chapter 4

When Ahsoka arrived, a small group of women were already at the wall, talking quietly in a loose circle. Ilaria sat apart from the others, leaned up against the wall and staring up at the sky that was washed orange and pink by the setting sun. A few of the women threw Ahsoka curious glances as she walked past, and Tennille, who was there as well, garbed in a beautiful dark red dress, gave her a warm greeting.

All of the women were dressed neatly and as elegantly as possible to show off their beauty. The only one that looked at if they couldn’t have been bothered was Ilaria, who wore her black Scales uniform. That was probably also why she was the only one sitting in the dirt.

“Are you okay?” Ahsoka inquired as she approached her, offering a hand to help her up.

“Uh yeah, just thinking,” said Ilaria, taking Ahsoka’s hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip. She glanced at the sky again. “Conrad’s assistant Kearnz should be here soon. Take your cloak off. No sense in both of us looking like bantha dung.”

Ahsoka did as she was instructed, holding the bundled cloak in front of her, relishing the reassuring weight of the lightsabers. “Why didn’t you dress up?”

“No time,” she said grimly. She had faint circles under her eyes, and kept running a hand over her face. “They already know what I look like, anyways.”

They waited in silence for only a few minutes before a seamless door on the wall opened and a diminutive, thin human entered. He looked young, but his white-blonde hair was already thinning, and he had a narrow, rodent-like face.

The moment he appeared, the women fell quiet and arranged themselves in a line. Ilaria and Ahsoka followed.

“Give me your robe,” the former whispered, extending her hand. “I already look like a mudfish, so it’s not going to matter if I’m holding something.”

Reluctantly, Ahsoka passed over her robe.

The man, Kearnz, started at the end opposite of the line and slowly worked his way down. He inspected each woman as if he were inspecting used electrobatteries. Ahsoka’s disgust only magnified as he came to a stop in front of her, his shallow blue eyes running her up and down.

“And who are you?” he asked. His voice was squeaky like a rodent, too.

“Suellen,” she answered. “I’m new.”

He nodded and moved along to Ilaria, where his expression folded in on itself in contempt. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“I didn’t have time to change,” Ilaria answered, staring determinedly ahead.

Kearnz glared at her for a moment longer. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Okay.”

He frowned, his contempt only growing. “You are to address me as sir, or do you need a reminder?”

Ilaria gave the man a wickedly sweet smile. “No, _sir_.” She said the word with just the right mixture of edge and honey that it was nearly impossible to tell if she was simply complying, or mocking him.

The man-rodent stepped back and ran his beady eyes down the line once more. “Alysia, Sharee, Suellen, and Ilaria. Meet me back here at midday tomorrow.”

The little man turned around and marched back out through the door, which firmly shut behind him. The girls began to disperse. Several threw Ilaria bemused glances, although no one said a thing.

“Does that mean we got the job?”

“It does.” Ilaria was still clearly distracted. She was rubbing one of her temples.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ilaria smiled wearily, handing Ahsoka back her cloak. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about what I’m going to wear tomorrow. I’ll see you at midday.”

Before Ahsoka could say anything else, Ilaria was gone, drifting away like a ghost.

Harland was at the house when Ahsoka arrived, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. Trying to adjust his sleeping schedule to the warehouse work hours was taking its toll. His eyes took in her new outfit. It was the first time she had worn it around him. “I assume you had a successful day.”

“I did,” said Ahsoka, sitting on her sleeping mat and pulling a ration out of her backpack. She chewed thoughtfully. “My first shift in the Resort is tomorrow. What about you?”

“Somewhat successful,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I found out that a Hutt is arriving tomorrow, though.”

 _Uh oh_ , Ahsoka thought. Hutts had long memories and if it was Jabba, they would have a problem. Sure, she had grown since he had last seen her, but unfortunately, her markings were quite distinctive. She knew he would recognize her immediately.

“Do you know who?”

Harland shook his head. “Afraid not.”

Ahsoka shook her head, troubled. “If you find out during your shift tonight, please let me know. If it’s Jabba, we may have a problem.”

At midday, Ahsoka found herself standing outside the wall again with two beautifully dressed green twi’leks that introduced themselves as Alysia and Shareen. She had hid her lightsabers within the folds of her dress with some difficulty. She dared not leave them anywhere, especially since Harland hadn’t been able to figure out which Hutt was visiting. If they needed to make a quick escape, it was important that she was armed.

Ilaria arrived last, sauntering out from between the buildings in an lovely soft pink dress. Her hair was down again, framing her face in golden waves. She looked like a princess, and much more well rested than the day before.

“You’re staring,” she said with a small smile as she came to stand beside Ahsoka.

“Oh, sorry,” said Ahsoka, her lekku growing hot. She averted her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry.”

Ilaria then greeted Shareen and Alysia, complimenting their outfits and making casual conversation while Ahsoka listened.

When the sun was directly above them, the door in the wall opened, and there was Kearnz. He squinted in the sunlight, his demeaning gaze falling on Ilaria. “Oh good, you made yourself presentable.” He turned around and headed back into The Resort side of the wall.

Ilaria grabbed Ahsoka’s hand, perhaps a little stronger than necessary, and lead the way as they followed.

The difference on The Resort side of the wall was astonishing. They were walking down a path of finely crushed white stone that wove its way and disappeared into lush, flowering gardens. The Resort itself was a series of long, low wooden buildings, with the tallest being only four stories tall. There was an assortment of balconies overlooking the gardens, and many were occupied with a variety of lounging influential guests.

They followed Kearnz into one of the buildings, taking narrow service passageways and staircases until they were in a small room. Along one wall was tanks of gorgs and Klatooine paddy frogs. There was also a variety of smoking supplies, cups, and drinks.

“You will be waiting on our honored guest Voras the Hutt,” said Kearnz once they were all sealed in the room. “You will wait on him until he is done and your presence is no longer needed. You will make sure he has everything he requires. Ilaria will be the lead waitress. If one of you makes a mistake, you will all be punished accordingly.”

He scurried away, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Alright,” said Ilaria, her eyes taking inventory of the shelves. “I want everyone to be sickeningly polite, understood? Suellen, follow my lead. Basically, you treat him as if his dung is gold.”

If she wasn’t about to go grovel to a Hutt, Ahsoka would have laughed. Alysia and Shareen appeared to be intimidated.

“Breathe,” Ilaria instructed, giving them a reassuring smile. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, taking on the definition of poise and dignity. She gave Ahsoka one last reassuring glance, her eyes bright as if she were going into battle, and led the way out.

The room already reeked of Hutt, of ammonia and slime, and Ahsoka found herself thinking of when she and Anakin rescued little Rotta from the Separatists. Stars, that had been so long ago. She had been so young.

Voras the Hutt sat in the middle of the room on a platform, surrounded by an array of entertainers and musicians, typical of a Hutt. The air was thick with flavored hookah smoke, and a lively tune played.

Ilaria waited at the edge of the assembled party until the current performers, a trio of twi’lek dancers, finished their routine before she stepped forward. She stopped in front of Voras the Hutt and bowed deeply. Ahsoka and the others followed her example. The music stopped.

“Hello, and welcome, mighty Voras,” said Ilaria, her tone as sweet and thick as honey. It was her speaking-to-customers tone. “It is an honor to have you here at The Resort. I am Ilaria, and with me I have some of the finest servants The Resort has to offer. We are here to provide whatever you may require.”

Voras’ silver protocol droid translated, and the Hutt let out a satisfied laugh when he was done. He spoke in rasping Huttese, which the droid promptly translated.

“The mighty Voras is satisfied with your manners,” said the droid. “You may wait on him.”

Ilaria bowed her head again. “It would be our honor.”

She stood and moved to the side, flanking Voras and his droid. Ahsoka and the others once again followed, and Ilaria gave her the smallest of smiles, as if they were sharing a silent joke. With a wave, the music and entertainment continued. The next performer was a bipedal species that Ahsoka had never seen. It has yellow skin and eight arms, and when it stepped out before Voras, produced more daggers than she could count. He then began to juggle.

Ilaria hated her job, and still she preferred it over dancing for a Hutt, or so she thought as she watched the twi’leks dance for the fourth time. Voras apparently had a type of preferred entertainment. She wondered if the Hutt ever got tired of the endless, prattling noise of music and tapping feet.

The hours dragged on, and when they were finally relieved from their duties and led back across the wall by the womp rat Kearnz, it felt like ecstasy. It was already dark out, and the moons shone bright above, casting the world in silver tinged with the softest pinks and oranges. Her feet ached, and she could already feel how painful it was going to be to make the journey home.

Alysia and Shareen bade them goodbye, leaving Ilaria and Suellen to head back on their own.

“I never thought I would wait on a Hutt,” said Suellen as they slowly made their way through the streets, with no particular destination in mind.

Despite her wariness, the fact that she knew Suellen was lying to her, Ilaria had to admit that she liked her company “You would be surprised by how often they like to come here. They just smell so doshing awful. I’ll have to be in the refreshers for a week to get the stench out of my nose, and even then I might need to roll around some creek mud.”

Suellen laughed, smiling wide enough to expose her sharp canines. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

“Not that bad? Is your nose broken?”

“No, and it’s even better than yours.”

Ilaria snorted. “That just further supports my point. If your nose was working, you would be even more disgusted than me by that stench.”

“Oh, really?” said Suellen, with a faux seriousness. “I didn’t know that was how it worked.”

“Well, I’m glad I could educate you.”

Their eyes met and they both laughed.

“I think we’re inhaled too much Hutt stink to think clearly,” Ilaria said at last. They had wandered into downtown, and were approaching within the vicinity of Scales. Struck with an idea, she inquired, “How tired are you?”

“Tired, but not too tired. Why?”

“Are you up for a droll-and-drink? Your boyfriend probably won’t be back from the warehouses until the morning, anyways.”

At the mention of the word boyfriend, Ilaria felt a small tick in her companion’s countenance, but thought it would be too dangerous to reach out into the Force to investigate it further. She had to keep her abilities hidden until she was more sure about her companion. Even so, she was growing more and more convinced that whomever Efran was to Suellen, she doubted he was a boyfriend. Still, she wasn’t sure, and she had to admit to herself that her thoughts may have been a little biased on the matter.

“You would know,” Suellen said. “What’s a droll-and-drink?”

“A local tradition, ever since we’ve felt the need to drink away our worries,” said Ilaria, stopping in the crowded street in front of Scales. “Wait here.”

Without waiting for a reply, she slipped in through the swinging doors, immediately squinting and resisting the urge to cover her ears as she was slammed with noise. More kriffing noise. She wasn’t really in the mood for the bright lights or large crowds, and yet as she stepped through the doors, she was intimately aware of the heads turning her way, the hungry eyes surveying her up and down. Instinctively, she stood a little straighter, and regarded them of with nonchalant detachment. A few who knew her waved or hollered, and she merely returned their attentions with a brief, gracious smile (she would have preferred a scathing look of distaste, but that hardly would’ve been productive).

Behind the bar was Janae’s twin brother Myles, while she doubled between waitressing and working behind the bar. She raised a questioning eyebrow when she spotted Ilaria, who mouthed back _droll-and-drink_ , which was met with a knowing nod. Yes, everyone whom had been working for Conrad knew what that was. They had to deal with their lives somehow.

“A little dressed up for work, don’t you think?” Myles asked as Ilaria slipped behind the bar. His Ryloth accent was thicker than his sister’s.

“I’m just here to pick up a bottle of the brown stuff.”

“A droll-and-drink, then? Who’s the lucky person?”

“You know me better than to ever tell,” Ilaria laughed, scanning the bottles on the back shelf until she came to the glass bottle of deep, brown liquid. It was a real poor man’s drink. She produced some of the precious credits from a pocket she had sewn into the folds of her dress, and deposited them into the drawer. “See you later. Try not to mess up too many drinks!”

“Yeah, yeah, you too, princess,” he called after her good-naturedly.  


Suellen was waiting patiently outside, looking very much too beautiful to be on the streets of Resort Town, like an ankarres sapphire in a pit of mud. The passerbyers seemed to have thought so as well, because one young man—an off-duty Imperial officer--was chatting her up, which she looked very uncomfortable with.  


Hiding the hand with the liquor bottle in the folds of her dress, Ilaria swooped in, locking one of her arms with Suellen’s at the elbow and giving the officer a dazzling, though slightly apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, sir, we already have arrangements for a party tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

Giving Suellen a gentle tug, she guided her friend away from the crowd and towards the edge of the town before the officer could even argue.

“You are good at avoiding people,” Suellen wryly observed once they were out of earshot. She made no attempt to disconnect their arms, and so they strolled along like a couple of proper fools.

Ilaria found it wonderfully pleasing, and her grin was genuine.

“Only when I’m saving someone from the mortifying possibility of a date with an Imp,” she said teasingly. She produced the arm with the bottle and held it up for Suellen to see. “Especially when I have a bottle of mudbrandy.”

Suellen wrinkled her nose. “Mudbrandy?”

“Truly horrible local brew. It burns all the way down, will make you question your every life choice, and, if consumed in excess, will undoubtedly cause you to do something excessively stupid.”

“Then why are we drinking it?”

“Because, what else are you supposed to drink after a long day of work? Come on, I have the perfect spot, too.”

Ilaria steered the way towards the very edge of town, until they were at the artificial water line. She then angled North, heading directly opposite of the shipyard and warehouse district, sticking as close to the water line as possible. The livimmae trees felt as if they were calling to her, begging her to return to them.

Finally, at the very edge of the town, where the boarded, compacted dirt gave way to daggergrass, the water, and the forest knees. Ilaria felt as if they were standing in some demented garden, and stepping down from the purposefully elevated dirt would set her free. She felt like that every time.

She stopped, pulling off her shoes and hiking up her dress. She bundled the fabric up in one hand, holding it high on her thighs with her shoes.

Suellen’s white markings glowed in the moonslight, making it all the more obvious when she raised a white brow marking. “Uhm, what are you doing?”

“Making sure my dress and shoes don’t get wet. You might want to do the same. Hurry, before someone sees!”

Once Suellen was similarly outfitted, Ilaria edged to the knot in the wooden planks that signified where the bridge was. Resisting the urge to use the Force to keep her balance, she sat on the edge of the dirt and lowered her feet into the cool water. When the water reached her knees, she felt the smooth wood of the hidden underwater bridge under her feet.

She stepped forward, and motioned for Suellen to follow. “Be careful, though. The planks aren’t very wide and you don’t want to risk falling in and accidentally waking a mudfish.”

With an uncertain glance, her friend followed. “What is this?”

“A secret sort of get away for us that grew up here,” Ilaria explained, happy that she knew the path by heart, so that she wouldn’t need to use the Force to find her way. “Not everyone was happy to be relocated here. There’s an old colony not far from here, and so we built the bridge so that we could go visit it when we got homesick. No one really visits anymore.”

Because there wasn’t really anyone left, but she didn’t mention that part.

As Ilaria spoke, she found herself thinking of her mother, and of her green eyes and impish smile. Her curly bronze hair that had always been quite a few shades darker than her own. Of the last time she had seen her, a little over two years prior. She pushed the memories from her mind before they could overtake her.

The path curved, following the daggergrass line, and soon the Resort was only visible from the lights it cast above the sharp fronds.

“I thought you said life was better with the Resort here,” Suellen quietly referenced the first nights’ conversation with Olen.

Ilaria stopped abruptly, causing the water to swirl around her legs with a gentle splash, and surveyed her companion, whom had to stop even shorter to avoid running into her. The water gave off a faint, silver-blue glow in the bright skylight, which Suellen’s eyes reflected brilliantly. She met her gaze evenly, if not with a dash of surprise from the sudden reproach.

“I may be wrong,” said Ilaria, suddenly bristling, turning and resuming the way down the path, “But I didn’t take you for an idiot.”

“That’s rude.”

“I thought it was a compliment.”

After that, they went on in silence for quite a ways, the sound of the water gently lapping at their knees and the brushing of the daggergrass in the lazy breezes to fill it. Part of Ilaria regretted what she had said, but another part very much did not.

“I’m sorry,” Suellen eventually said. “I should have thought more carefully about what I said.”

“It’s fine,” said Ilaria. “Just please do me the favor of not taking me for an idiot. After all, what else am I supposed to say when surrounded by a mob of Imperial goons and Resort-profiteers?”

It struck Ilaria that perhaps she shouldn’t have been saying so much, but for some indiscernible reason she trusted her Force-sensitive companion. Not only did she find that she trusted her, she was intrigued by her. She wanted to know more, and maybe speaking somewhat openly was the path to learning more about Suellen.

“Anyways,” she said, as the underwater path began to angle closer to the tree line—just to the very edge, though, “We’re here.”

The path led into the knee-roots and into the dark shadows the trees casted. Before them, expertly balanced on the knee-roots, were a series of daggergrass huts constructed around the small livimmae tree trunks, which were still at least three meters in diameter. Only four of the huts still stood from the colony formerly known as Teniak, the rest already consumed by the water. The huts required constant upkeep, and were prone to degrading when abandoned. Ilaria had not grown up in that colony, but it was the closest one she could revisit when she felt homesick, without actually having to go home, if it still stood, anyway. She hadn’t checked since she had left.

Some of the bridges and swing ropes connecting the bridges were still standing. More importantly, the narrow viewing platform on some of the taller knee-roots was still there. It was made of an old livimmae branch that had been felled by lighting years prior, and split to create a platform almost four meters in diameter, crossed and etched with lighting scars that had been traced with charcoal to turn it into a work of art as well as functionality.

“We were a simple people, and majority of us lived without technology,” Ilaria explained, wading towards the platform. The underwater planks had worn slightly so that they sagged, causing the water to reach a few centimeters above her knees. “This colony was one of the only ones for kilometers to own a holonet connector. It was beyond old, and constantly flickered. Half the time the audio lagged.”

“I can’t imagine,” said Suellen, and Ilaria believed her.

“In this universe, most sentients can’t.” Ilaria paused at the rope ladder hanging from the platform, and passed the bottle to Suellen, whom wordlessly accepted it. The rope swung as she climbed, which was considerably more difficult one-handed., without the aid of the Force. That somehow made it more rewarding when she reached the smooth top of the platform, still warm from the daytime sunlight.

Once Suellen joined her, they sat on the edge of the platform, their shoes discarded behind them and their bare feet dangling over the edge as they looked out over the marsh. They were far enough around the curve of the forest line that the Resort was out of sight, and all there was before them was an expanse of silver water, daggergrass black in the night, and the brilliant night sky.

Ilaria uncapped the bottle and took a swig of the brown liquid, its spice burning her throat and her lugs. She shivered, and passed the bottle to Suellen, whom sniffed it apprehensively.

“Are you sure this is drinkable?”

“I suppose technically it’s a little bit not, but that’s kinda the point.”

Suellen closed her eyes and took a sip, and immediately started coughing.

Unable to stop herself from Ilaria chuckled.

“How do you drink this stuff?” Suellen exclaimed once she had regained her breath.

“With practice. And be sure not to let it sit in your mouth. That makes it worse.”

They continued to pass the bottle back and forth, Suellen getting the hang of the drink, and Ilaria enjoying the relaxation that came with it. Eventually, they were each laid out on their backs, staring up at the stars through the tops of the livimmae trees.

One of the silver moons was high in the sky when Suellen asked, “What happened to your family?”

“For as long as I could remember, it was my mother and I,” she said, happy that she didn’t have to look at Suellen’s face. It was much easier to talk that way. “But Conrad sold her during the Resort construction. One of the contractors took a liking to her, and offered him a fair price.” She let out a bitter sigh. “I think she was the first colonist he sold.”

There was the soft rustling of skin and cloth against wood as Suellen turned to look at her. “I’m sorry. That must be hard.”

“Not as hard as some,” Ilaria said with a shrug. “I try not to think about it and hope that she’s happy.” Figuring that she wouldn’t get an honest answer, Ilaria didn’t bother to ask about Suellen’s family. She contemplated asking about Efran, but given her current state, decided against it. Instead, she opted for closing her eyes and letting the sound of the forest lull her.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, Suellen said, “This place is really beautiful. I can see why you love it.”

Ilaria nodded, not even bothering to open her eyes. She was surprisingly content. Even though they weren’t touching, she could feel Suellen’s warmth beside her. “Thankfully Conrad hasn’t touched the entire planet.” She let out a sigh, and welcomed the embrace of sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The party started at midnight, and it was quite unlike any party Ahsoka had previously attended (not that she had attended many parties in her lifetime). Still, the low-technological standing of most of the residents of Resort Town was evident even in the way they kicked back.

It was held at the very edge of down, between some of the dilapidated buildings and the artificial water line. The main draw was the bonfire (maybe a meter in diameter), around which everyone hung in a rough circle. There were some stools, but most of those attending sat on blankets in the dirt. Music was playing from somewhere (although not too loudly) and cool ale was being passed around from a metal keg. The moonslight, relatively bright, cast everything in silvery shadows, and combined with the warm glow of the bonfire, created an ethereal twilight in which everyone mingled.

Harland’s friends from the warehouse greeted him warmly, shaking hands and clasping him on the shoulder, and usually giving Ahsoka an appreciative nod. Much reflecting the town population, the attendees were mostly humans and half-humans, with twi’leks and other bipedal humanoids sprinkled into the mix. Ahsoka recognized a few, such as Tennille and Janae, who both waved, but to her disappointment, she didn’t spot Ilaria anywhere in the crowd. Soon, she had a cup of ale in her hand (which was much less bitter than Scaleale), and was seated on a blanket with Harland a respectable distance from the fire.

Tennille eventually made her way over, and for a while she chatted with Ahsoka about how working at the Resort was, occasionally pausing to point out different people around the fire.

“That’s Janae’s twin brother, Myles.”

“That’s Mary, she’s been dating Ty but has eyes for Boots, if you know what I mean.”

“Over there by the keg is Walker—he’s one of the only natives left here.”

“Really?” said Ahsoka, suddenly intrigued. The young man Tennille was motioning towards was a handsome human, with tanned skin and black hair. He was laughing with another human whom she recognized to be one of the warehouse workers. She had learned that what everyone else commonly referred to as “natives” were the original colonists that had lived on the planet before Conrad had come to the place.

“Really,” said Tennille, eyeing the young man with appreciation. “If there’s ever a reason Ilaria doesn’t marry her commander, he would be it. Of course, she would have to forgive him first, but it’s not like there’s many choices for mates on this mud hole, anyways.”

A thrill of unease went through Ahsoka and her curiosity rose all the more. “Forgive him for what?”

Tennille made a sour face. “They used to date, but Walker cheated on her with one of the other native girls. A few months later, the native girl left him, and he’s been trying to get Ilaria back ever since. I think it’s just a matter of time before they get back together. Plus, they would make some good-looking babies.”

“Yeah,” said Ahsoka, taking a sip of her drink to try to hide her face. “Yeah, they would.”

It was a little past midnight when one of the guys boomed, “Hold up everyone! Your majesty has graced us with her presence!”  
And there was Ilaria, still wearing the black pants and shirt of her Scales uniform, minus the apron. Her hair was silver in the moonslight, and she looked perfectly at home, a specter of the gossamer twilight of the party.

She laughed, heading for the keg and called over her shoulder, “Some of us have to work, laser brain!”

At the keg, Walker handed her a cup and the she fell into conversation with him and the warehouse worker. Unfortunately, Ahsoka couldn’t hear what they were saying, and Ilaria’s back was to her. She noticed Harland was giving her a sideways look, and so she tore her gaze from Ilaria.

“What?”

He was smiling in an insufferable sort of way. “Nothing.”

Finally, Ilaria turned to survey the rest of the party, and her eyes met Ahsoka’s. She smiled, said something to Walker, and the two picked their way around the fire towards them, occasionally pausing to trade playful insults and greetings with those they passed.

“A good night for it,” Ilaria said, her and Walker sitting down next to Tennille. She introduced Walker to Ahsoka and Harland, calling him an “old friend.”

Ahsoka agreed, finding herself at a slight loss for words, but the boys managed to keep the conversation rolling, with intermittent help from Tennille and Ilaria. She noticed that although Walker and Ilaria sat close, they weren’t touching, and although his dark eyes constantly glanced to her, she hardly looked at him.

The observation pleased Ahsoka.

Maybe Tennille was wrong. And then, she silently chided herself. Why should she care? So what if Ilaria was dating someone? She was beautiful and witty—it would be harder to believe that she _wasn’t_ dating someone.

More than once, Ahsoka’s eyes caught Ilaria’s, and she couldn’t help but notice how richly her eyes reflected the firelight, as if the fire only existed in her irises, and the rest was just an illusion.

Maybe she had drank too much of the ale.

The more the drinks flowed, the more and more rowdy the crowd grew, and suddenly, two of the guys jumped to their feet. Ahsoka immediately saw that they were Ty and Boots. They were arguing, puffing up at their chest like brightly-colored avians, and the surrounding crowd quickly moved back.

Ilaria muttered into her cup, “Here comes the pissing contest.”

It was hard to discern exactly what they were saying over the music, but suddenly the two were striding towards the water, ripping off their shirts and shoes.

“Oh, stang,” said Walker. “You don’t think…?”

“Those doshing idiots,” growled Ilaria, tipping back the rest of her drink and setting the empty cup on the ground. She tapped Walker’s arm and stood up. “We better stop them before they get eaten.”

She and Walker marched after the boys, leaving the rest of them to follow.

“It’s dangerous to go swimming here,” Tennille explained as they hurried after them. “There’s giant fish in the creeks that can eat a human whole, and they like to feed at night. Only the natives really know how to go swimming here without getting eaten.”

“Hey!” Ilaria’s curt yell snapped through the crowd, causing an uneasy silence to fall. They all formed a semicircle around the two men, who were standing at the edge of the artificial bank, ready to dive into the water below. “You two need to figure out some other way to work out your egos. If you go in that water, you’re going to die.”

The drunken men were hardly deterred.

“I’m not scared of no fish!” Ty insisted, thumping a fist against his chest. “Of course, I bet Boots here is.”

In response, Boots dove into the water below, and Ty, not to be outdone, followed. The two boys began paddling out away from the safety of the bank, and the crowd closed into to form a ragged line at the edge of the water.

Ilaria had her arms crossed, watching the two through narrowed eyes.

“What are we going to do?” Ahsoka asked, coming to a stop beside her.

The boys were steadily putting distance between themselves and the bank. Mary stood on the edge, calling them desperately between sobs. One of her friends reassuringly pat her back, and everyone else ignored her.

“Walker and I are going to have to go get the kriffing idiots, apparently,” muttered Ilaria.

Ahsoka realized that Walker was nowhere in sight. “How?”

“Canoe. He’s going to fetch it right now. Those doshers are lucky he has it tied up not too far from here.”

Sure enough, a minute later, Walker appeared at the waterline, paddling along a small wooden canoe.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” Ilaria said simply, stepping lithely into the canoe, remaining standing as Walker pushed off the bank and paddled after the boys, who had turned and were beginning to swim back.

Ahsoka resisted the urge to go after them, and she felt Harland’s hand slip into hers, giving her a warning squeeze. “There’s nothing we can do, Su.”

“He’s right,” said Tennille without taking her eyes from the water. “Only the natives know how to deal with mudfish.”

The bank was eerily silent as they all watched the scene unfold. Everyone else was squinting to see, but Ahsoka and Tennille’s superior eyesight allowed them to see everything perfectly. They watched as Walker passed a glinting knife to Ilaria, who gripped it with familiarity, her eyes scanning the water. They moved in perfect rhythm, her weight never disturbed by the movement of the canoe, and vice versa. It was clear that they had done this a hundred times before.

They were almost to the two tiring men when the black fin poked out of the water, over a meter long. And then, in a frighteningly quick instant, a giant O-shaped mouth appeared from the water and swallowed Ty whole before he could even scream as he disappeared in a ferocious splash of water.

Screams and gasps when up from the bank. Boots let out a strangled yell and paddled madly for the canoe. And Ilaria, she put the handle of the knife between her teeth and dived into the water after Ty.

There was a great deal of splashing as Walker hauled Boots into the canoe, and there was a silence, broken only by Mary’s sobs and the gentle lapping of water against wooden planks.

Ahsoka realized that Tennille was holding her other hand, and that she was squeezing Tennille and Harland’s hands so tightly that she was on the verge of breaking their fingers. She watched the water, desperate for something to disturb the silvery surface.


	6. Chapter 6

Before the days of the Resort and the Empire, the colonies of Xeroianjj had certain rights of passage, and ranking within a colony generally depended on how much one did for the colony. Rank, respect, and voice were given to those that gave the most to the colony. One feat that produced a status of high rank and respect among the colony was single-handedly slaying an adult mudfish, commonly known among the natives as a man-eating mudfish due to their ability to eat a man whole. The color of mud, over five meters long, and two meters wide, their skin was slick and slimy, and they moved through the water with alarming speed and agility for something of their size. To take on one alone was madness, and if you had any doubts on your ability to defeat it, the giant fish would certainly have a good meal. However, if you managed to slay the fish…well, a man-eating mudfish could feed a colony for weeks.

It was a right of passage generally pursued by men, although women were not forbidden from it.

Ilaria had been sixteen when she hunted her first mudfish, and giving her ranking colony name, Lady Ilaria. It was much more posh than she would have preferred, but she didn’t get it chose it, and that was what the colony had chosen for her.

One of the reasons she was so good at hunting mudfish was her abilities with the Force, of course, but for her first hunt, her right of passage, she had not used the Force. No, she had done it the old-fashioned way: watching the shadows beneath the water, an instinctive timing borne of years of practice, borne of being one with the feral planet.

She had to know that even without using the Force, she was worthy of her colony’s respect.

She had timed her jump perfectly, and beneath the water she latched onto the mudfish, grabbing him by the whisker. He whipped his head around, bucking and zooming madly through the water, drudging up mud and causing Ilaria to bump up against painfully sharp oysters more than once. She pulled herself against the wreathing fish, and carefully snatching the knife from her mouth, dove it into the top of the fish’s giant, flat head, right where she knew its brain to be.

It stopped instantly, going limp.

Her lungs screaming for air, Ilaria felt her way to the fish’s mouth and prying it open, reached past its finely bristled teeth, down it’s warm gullet until its lips reached her shoulder. She felt Ty’s hair, and then his neck, shoulder. She hooked a hand around his shoulder, and her muscles feeling as if they they might snap from the effort, she pulled him towards her. Letting out an unheard scream, using the Force to assist her, she yanked his limp body from the mudfish’s yawning, limp mouth and paddled madly for the surface, dragging Ty with her.

Bursting above the water, into the moonlight, she gasped desperately for air, making a point to pull Ty’s head above the water as well. She grasped for a muddy bank, her toes reaching for solid ground, and when she finally found it, she hauled his limp form onto the mud. Finding a pulse, she immediately began chest compressions. Her arms felt like they might snap from the effort.

Finally, he spluttered, coughing water from his mouth, and his eyes opened. He was breathing. She sat back, and realized that the fish had taken them far into one of the side creeks, out of sight of the others. There was only the stars reflected in the water, the sharp grass, and the trees in the distance. Wonderful. If it were just her, that wouldn’t be a problem.

She eyed the still sputtering Ty, and resisted the urge to break his stupid nose.

She was also aware of something in the Force reaching out for her, searching for her, and that she vaguely recognized it as Suellen. Ilaria was careful to keep her presence within it modulated, simple. She was just another human.

“Stay here,” she growled to Ty, who was somewhat awake. “Get in that water again, and you’ll wish the mudfish had eaten you.”

Satisfied that she was reasonably recovered from the effort (although, her muscles still ached), she waded back into the water to the mudfish carcass, which had risen to the top, a black bruise on the iridescent water. “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling the knife from the creature’s head with a sickening squelch.

Following the bank, she made her way back to the main channel, and eventually found Walker in the canoe, paddling slowly and scanning the water with worry.

“Ari!” he cried when he saw her. “Thank the stars.” His face fell. “Ty…?”

“A little ways up,” she grunted, allowing herself to be hauled into the canoe. “On the bank.”

Walker smiled, his hand lingering on her arm, unknowingly painfully grasping one of her cuts from the oysters. “Lady Ilaria, you’ve still got it.”

“What?” she said, gently detaching her arm from his grip, still breathing heavy. The night air was making the multiple oyster cuts across her limbs sting. She averted her eyes from his, and did her best to act as if he wasn’t staring at her with such intensity. “Did you expect anything else?”

He laughed, reaching for the paddle, and moving the canoe towards where she had left Ty. “No, not at all.”

A roaring cheer went up as Walker’s canoe reappeared, Ty and Ilaria seated in it with him, and a large, dead fish tied to the back. Ahsoka laughed with relief, and joined in with the cheering. Beside her, Harland and Tennille did the same.

“Those natives are kriffing insane,” said the latter, clapping.

Ty was hauled up first, and then, with a roar of approval, Ilaria was as well. She was sopping wet, her hair brown and slicked back against her head, and the water droplets glittered on her skin. She was laughing, despite the fact that her hands were still trembling, and in some places, thin cuts trickled blood on her arms and legs. She was immediately passed a cup of ale.

She took a drink of the beer and straightened, motioning towards the fish. “Free fish for everyone, except Ty and Boots. You two can starve.”

They all settled back around the bonfire, singing songs that sounded perfectly right when sung off key. Ilaria sat down beside Ahsoka and Harland. She smelled like salt and mud, and the thing was, it wasn’t bad. She casually wiped away and bandaged her bleeding cuts with strips of tied cloth, refusing help from others. Walker and a few of the other guys took the mudfish off to the butcher’s be cleaned, while Mary, Ty, and Boots left to sort out their sordid relationship.

Ty didn’t even say thank you to Ilaria, and when Harland pointed this out, she merely shrugged. “Next time I’ll just let it eat him.”

It was hard to tell if she was kidding or not.

Eventually, and rather sooner than Ahsoka expected, Walker returned with the guys he had disappeared with, each with their hands full of paper-wrapped mudfish filets. They passed out the filets generously, and everyone present got enough meat to at least take them through the week. Ilaria’s package was slightly larger than the others, and when Walker finally handed it to her, he was grinning. “For Lady Ilaria, the best the colonies have ever seen.”

Ilaria’s face went stony. “That’s a dead title, Walker. The colonies are gone.”

His mouth gaped slightly in reproach, and he shook his head slightly. “If you say so.” He moved on, glancing once over his shoulder back at Ilaria, but she determinedly avoided his gaze.

 _That_ didn’t seem very romantic.

“I didn’t know the colonies had nobles,” Harland said after Walker had gone and before Ahsoka could elbow him in the ribs.

Ilaria sighed. “They didn’t. Once you completed your right-of-passage, the colony gave you a new name or title. Mine was ‘Lady.’” She tied her half-dried hair back behind her head and shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Do you two have a refrigerator unit? If not, I can keep that for you. Hell, Else will probably cook it and bring it by, too. If there’s one thing she likes, it’s cooking for people.” She said all of this as she was getting up, and Ahsoka noticed that her legs trembled slightly. The fight with the mudfish had taken more out of her than she was letting on.

“Uh, if you could keep it that would be great.” She passed her packet of fish to Ilaria. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you want us to walk you home?”

Ilaria smiled, albeit wearily, but genuinely. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The shadows from the fire licked her back, and then the night time swallowed her. Walker jogged after her, and a minute later, reappeared, somehow appearing even more dejected than before.

Ilaria wanted nothing more than to disappear deep into the forest, let the soul of Xeroianjj swallow her up, graft her into the trees like crossing branches. To lay in her little hut, sleep on her bed, clutch her singing crystal, and fall asleep to the sound of the yarkiokkajj snoring in their nests. Her legs would never be able to carry her far enough into the forest, though, not after killing the mudfish. They trembled slightly with each step, and it would be a miracle if she could make it to Else’s without stumbling.

The fire, the questions, the memories, they were all too much. They threatened to overwhelm her mind the same way lack of oxygen had threatened to conquer her muscles. The packets of fish meat had their distinctive smell, but it was familiar, and it made the memories worse.

She thought of the night she had passed her rights-of-passage, when the colony had all sat around the main fire with her and ate deliciously fried mudfish and drank liquor and sang the traditional songs. She thought of how they had painted her face and braided her hair and how proud her mother had looked. And she saw old wizened Fausto, somehow seeing her through his milky eyes, and declaring her “Lady,” and more shocking, the rest of the colony agreed

It had been one of the few times in her young life where she had not felt the slightest bit alienated from her family, her friends, her colony. She had always been a little weird, a little different, but that night, she was one of them. She was home.

But, like she said to Walker, the colonies were gone.

She thought of him and resisted the urge to grind her teeth together. He had this fantasy that the colonies could live on, that the two of them could run away and rebuild.

Not that he ever directly told her this, not yet, anyway. But, of course, he didn’t have to. She saw it every time he looked at her.

It infuriated her. She had been so in love with him, and in hindsight, she realized how much of herself she had scarified to be with him. She had stopped seeing the yarkiokkajj so much, stopped thinking about the Force and the forest when they had been together. She had tried, really tried, to be the perfect little girlfriend. And then he had cheated on her with Persephone, and she was so rudely reminded of how little she needed him in her life. Still, she tolerated him nowadays, even as he followed her around like a loth kitten. In a way, she felt a degree of contempt for his renewed affections for her.

She would be nobody’s second choice, and if he was stupid enough to think that she would be, he was worthy of her contempt.

Else was asleep when Ilaria got home, her heavy snoring still audible through her closed door.

Storing some of the fish filets in the refrigerator unit, and the rest in the freezer unit, she started a fire and put a pot on the coals. She rummaged through Else’s dried herbs and flowers until she held a combination for calming, sleep, and headaches. They didn’t work nearly as well as real medications, but when you couldn’t afford actual medications, they were the next best thing. And, Ilaria knew for a fact that the medications sold in Resort Town were just compacted sodium bicarbonate.

When the water was sufficiently boiled, she used the Force to remove the pot from the fire and pour some water into her mug. Inhaling the sweet fumes, she carried the mug upstairs to her bedroom.

Her room at Else’s was moderately sized, with a hatch in the ceiling that lead to the roof garden. There was a sleeping mat in one corner, and a few shelves containing stuff that she mostly used for getting ready at the Resort. Things like pressed powders for her eyes and cheeks, paint for her lips, and the few nice dresses and shoes that she possessed. Her window was open, and while she drank her tea, she leaned on the sill and gazed at the forest, doing her best to push the memories of the past to the back of her mind.

She found her gaze wandering to the little ramshackle houses at the edge of town, and found her thoughts turning to Suellen and Efran. She thought of the intensity in Suellen’s gaze when she had stepped off into the canoe, and more importantly, how Efran had held her hand. She also thought of the worry etched on Suellen’s features (and had that been disappointment?), when Ilaria said she was leaving for the night.

Before she could let her thoughts wander any farther, her tea was at its dregs. Leaving the cup on the windowsill, she went back downstairs, and retrieved a cloth from the kitchen cabinets and dipped it into the then warm water. Back upstairs, she stripped off her damp clothes, wiped down with the warm water, and changing into some comfortable bedclothes, laid out on her bed mat and pulled her blanket to her chin. She closed her eyes, pretending that she was in her hut in the forest.

Her skin was dry and cracking, and she was stumbling through sand that burned her bare feet. Each footstep left rolled droplets of blood on the ground.

She was surrounded by metal, alarms blaring so loud that she had to resisted the urge to cover her ears and duck. No, in fact, they were almost quiet compared to her breathing. She was running, sprinting. It was life or death. It was this, or nothing.

Rounding the corner, she came face-to-face with a crowd of stormtroopers. No, not stormtroopers—there was something distinctly different about their helmets, but she couldn’t quite name it.

They fired at her, and she dodged their blaster bolts with unnatural speed. What was happening?

The scene shifted, and she was in a city of glittering azure glass. Droids of various shapes and sizes, all heavily armed, marched through deserted and broken streets. A broken city, and a shield of translucent red energy.

A young man stood before her, a scar going across one of his eyes. He wore armor, and an aggravated expression. At his belt, hung a round, metal hilt. The hilt was singing.

Ahsoka woke with a start, her eyes flying open and rapidly adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the door. Her mind reeled, and she resisted the urge to triple check her surroundings. Her hands touched the sleeping mat under her—firm, real. Yes, she was lying on her sleeping mat in their little house on Xeroianjj. She was on an undercover mission, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

She concentrated on her breathing, until it became measured and steady, reaching out to the Force for comfort.

It had felt so real, as if she were once again standing on Christophsis, looking up at flustered, and admittedly aggravated, Anakin. In her mind’s eye, she could still see him so clearly, as if he was standing right next to her. It sent a painful pang through her heart, and her fingers tingled.

Beside her, Harland was still snoring, and moving stealthily, she gathered up her cloak, feeling the reassuring weight of her lightsabers, and crept out of the house. It was still a few hours before midday, and so most of the town was still asleep. She set off for the edge of the town, and for a long while, stood there, gazing out at the forest. She closed her eyes and once more reached out to the forest, to the massive life-Force emanating from the ancient trees. All she felt was an impenetrable fog, the Force surrounding the trees so thick that it was beyond comprehension.

“It’s a lovely morning.”

She whirled to find Else standing behind her, the old woman wrapped in a soft green shawl. She walked with a polished wooden cane, and under one arm held a woven grass basket.

“Dear, are you feeling alright?” Else inquired with concern, peering over her thick glasses. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ahsoka did her best to rapidly regain her composure. “I’m fine.” On a second thought she added truthfully, “I did not sleep very well last night.”

“Hmph.” Else nodded, and motioned for Ahsoka to walk with her, which suited Ahsoka just fine. They set off down the water line at a leisurely pace. “I suppose that didn’t have anything to do with last night. Must’ve been some party, eh? I woke up to the house smelling like mud, and a pile of fresh fish in the refrigerator unit.”

“It was definitely interesting.”

“Look at you, being vague,” said Else. She gestured towards the town. “Tell me, what happened? I would ask Ari, but the girl hates waking up early.”

It was hardly early, but Ahsoka decided it was best not to point that out. She supposed that when you normally stayed up all night, waking up before midday was early. Instead, she did her best to quickly recount the events of the night before.

Else listened to it all with a disgruntled expression, and when Ahsoka was finished the woman plunged her cane forcefully into the dirt. “Those damn offworlders—no offense dear, I don’t mean you. I mean those useless laser brains who come here and disrespect our home and then expect us to rescue them!”

“At least Walker and Ilaria were okay, and they got plenty of meat from the fish.”

At the mention of Walker, Else scowled. “I’m sure _they_ did.”

Ahsoka frowned, befuddled. “What do you mean? I thought that they were,” she struggled for the right word, “…together.”

Else let out a humorless chuckle. “Oh, he wishes.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman paused, and peered at Ahsoka over her thick-rimmed glasses. When she was satisfied, she continued walking at her slow pace, “Ilaria is too good for him. Not that I mean ill of the boy, exactly, but he is not good for her. He is…simple. He wants to go back to the old ways, to fish and weave baskets and start a family and eventually be lit afire in the grand creek.”

“Is that so bad?” Ahsoka asked quietly. How many times had she wished for a simpler life, for a family, for things to go back to the way they used to be? All of that, she could understand, and her feelings towards Walker softened with understanding, although not completely, as she was reminded of how he had cheated on Ilaria. Who in their right mind would do such a thing?

“No, not at all,” said Else. “I miss the old ways, too. But Walker wants to keep Ari to them. My people have this saying—it’s not an extraordinarily wise one, but it goes, ‘you can never tame a yarkiokkajj.’ Walker wants to tame Ari. He’s meant for the ground, and he wants to tether a yarkiokkajj down with him.”

It was evident how deeply Else loved her granddaughter, how much she believed in and admired her. So, Ahsoka took everything she said with a grain of salt and yet…well, she was tempted to agree with Else on the matter.

“Do you think Walker will?” she asked. “’Tame her.’”

Else chortled. “Some creatures, the more you try to tie them down, the more they struggle.”


	7. Chapter 7

ALDERA, ALDERAAN

It was a late night, as they were all turning into, and Bail sat behind his desk, patiently waiting for Ahsoka’s encrypted signal. Most of the lights were off, but when Breha entered with a tray of fresh caf, the office was momentary illuminated before being plunged back into semi-darkness.

“Thank you,” he said wearily, accepting the cup she offered him.

“Warm caf goes a long way on a long night,” she said, taking the empty seat across from him. “How much longer?”

He checked his chrono. “Ten standard minutes.”

Xeroianjj and Alderaan’s rotation times clashed, and so in order for him and Ahsoka to holo, it sometimes required him to keep late nights. He dared not risk her recording and relaying messages, especially when she was in the middle of an undercover mission. No, scrambled, unrecorded transmissions were the way they communicated.

He and Breha sat in comfortable silence as the minutes ticked by, and finally, the holocam light blinked gently. Incoming transmission. He quickly answered, and found himself facing a miniaturized version of Ahsoka’s face.

“How goes it?”

“Interesting, to say the least,” she replied. It was strange seeing her without a headpiece on. “We have befriended a few of the locals, and have acquired jobs to maintain over cover. The locals are a surprisingly tight-knit group, although, not many of the original colonists remain. It appears that Conrad sold most of them off as slaves. Many notable figures visit the Resort, and not all are Imperial. Voras the Hutt is currently vacationing here, as a matter of fact.”

“That sounds promising. Do you have any leads on locals that may be sympathetic to our cause?”

Ahsoka frowned slightly. “There is a promising one.”

“But?”

Again, the frown. “I wonder if they would be more useful off-world. It is unclear at this time…the Force here is…unclear.”

Bail never pretended to understand much about the Force, but he thought he rather often heard Jedi talking about it being _unclear_. Well, he used to hear it rather often, anyways. In a paradoxical way, it was almost reassuring to be hearing it once more. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to say. The forest here has an immense presence in the Force, it blocks out much else. Also, it appears to be that there may be another Force-user here. We saw them our first rotation here, but could not identify specific characteristics and have not seen them since. I believe my presence may have driven them into hiding. I’ve tried finding them through the Force but the forest makes it short of impossible.”

Now, it was Bail’s turn to frown. “Could it be a survivor?”

“Possibly. I won’t know for certain unless I am able to make contact. I have already alerted the _Sunrise_ that we may need a quick extraction, if things do not go as planned.”

XEROIANJJ

The rotations began to blend together, and they began to settle into a rough routine, or as much of a routine as you could get working at the Resort. Harland worked his nights at the warehouses, and carefully logged all the cargo (which was indicative of particular guests) and any rumors among the workers that seemed relevant. Ahsoka spent her time working mostly nights at the Resort as a cocktail waitress or servant, although occasionally she was shifted for day shift (which inevitably resulted in her being exhausted). Still, she gathered a ton of relevant intelligence, and soon she had a datapad full of information on notable figures, such as war mongers’, spice dealers, Imperial officers, and even pirates. All of those nefarious parties loved to take relaxing vacations, apparently

Occasionally, Ilaria would join the shifts at the Resort, but for the most part, she kept the bar at Scales, which suited Ahsoka just fine. On one hand, she liked spending time with Ilaria, and on the other, she was slightly worried about just how much she liked spending time with her. Even so, they saw each other almost daily, and Else never failed to invite Ahsoka, or Ahsoka and Harland for at least one meal a day, even if it was just a cup of tea. And, on the few days they didn’t see each other, Else never failed to leave a basket of food at Ahsoka and Harland’s little house.

The working class of Resort Town were a tight knit group, especially the waitresses and bartenders, and it wasn’t uncommon for them all to hang out outside of working hours, usually with intoxicating drinks involved. It was amazing how quickly they accepted Ahsoka as one of their own, and soon Tennille had given her another dress, and Janae, who loved to bake pastries in her free time, never failed to share her baking. Some often wandered how she got her hands on the supplies to bake sweets, but she never told (rumor was that she was involved with one of the Resort managers). Similarly, Harland befriended the warehouse workers, and so he was often off hanging out with them. Sometimes the two cliques would hang out together, which was always interesting, to say the least.

It was a strangely happy existence, and there was an undeniable sense of comradery among the lower classes of Xeroianjj.

If Ahsoka ever had a question about drama or rumors, about guests or workers alike, she would ask Ilaria, who would invariably have some sort of answer. In fact, Ilaria always seemed to more or less know what was going on with just about everyone in town, and if she didn’t know something, she wasn’t afraid to admit it, nor was she afraid to guess. Her guesses were usually pretty close to the truth.  
In reality, it became more and more apparent that Ilaria would be the perfect spy for the Resort.

Once, Ahsoka had innocently inquired about the grey-cloaked figure that they had seen bounding into the forest their first night there. Ilaria had admitted that she didn’t know who the figure could have been, and that as far as she knew, no one ventured into the forest, as it was generally considered to be suicide via yarkiokkajj. Else had insisted that the figure must have been a ghost of the forest, or one of the old gods fleeing the sacrilege that was the Resort (which prompted a weary sigh accompanied by an eye roll from Ilaria).

On a particularly fogging evening, where the cantina and downtown lights were blurred by the mist, Ilaria had somehow managed to get the night off, so she and Ahsoka were wandering through the streets, talking with no particular destination in mind. Ahsoka wasn’t due at the Resort for a few more hours. Despite her limited intergalactic experience, Ilaria was quite adept at carrying interesting conversations, and from them, her curiosity about the stars beyond Xeroianjj was evident. She loved to ask questions about the planets Ahsoka (well, Suellen) had visited, what the people were like, what the stores were like, etc. They rarely faltered for lack of conversation, and even when they did occasionally fall into silence, it was a comfortable one that was unburdened by the pressure for conversation.

That evening, the moisture seemed to cling to their skin, and it, combined with the golden-hour twilight, gave Ilaria the appearance of glowing, even when surrounded by the grey fog. They were casually discussing some of the guests, more specifically, Cal’in Ooni (who owned a freighter manufacturing company) and how his mistress was almost discovered by a private investigator his wife had sent after him. Ilaria had managed to warn the company owner just in time, and had received a generous credit tip for her efforts. Although, now, she was speaking of how she wished the private investigator had been better at his job.

They were interrupted, though, when behind them a distinctly male voice called her name.

Ilaria turned to see none other than a flushed Commander Zielinski striding towards them, hard to discern through the fog as his was still a little over ten meters way. Her throat tightened, and she steeled herself, seamlessly slipping into the persona Zielinski knew her as. She was an actress, and those that visited the Resort, her audience. Zielinski, despite his affections, was no exception to invisible mask she wore.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” Ilaria said to Suellen, and was surprised to find that her companion had frozen, her bright blue eyes tracking Zielinski with interest. Strange. Ilaria went on, as if she didn’t notice her companion’s sudden interest in the Commander, “I can catch up with you later.”

With that, she strode forward to meet Zielinski, bowing her head slightly in recognition and putting on a subtle, charming smile. She couldn’t risk offending him, and it was all a game, after all. She adopted what the wait staff often referred to as their customer service voice, sweet and kind and an octave higher than her normal speaking tone, “Hello, Commander.”

She wondered why he had a come a day ahead of schedule.

“Hello, Ilaria, you look well,” he greeted with the stiff formality that cursed many Imperial officers. However, his brown eyes were bright, and his cheeks a little flushed. “I was wondering if you would accompany me on a walk around the edge of town?”

Her smile was tireless. “It would be my pleasure.” She accepted his arm, and when they turned down the next street that led towards the edge of town, Suellen had vanished. She resisted the urge to reach out in the Force to find her.

Not that she had much time to wonder about Suellen, though, because Zielinski began to inquire about how she had been since he was last at the Resort, etc. She answered all of his questions mildly and sweetly, in a way so that the vagueness of her answers seemed only natural. He really was easy to talk to, and she could feel the happiness that flowed through him whenever she was nearby.

But it wasn’t really _her_ that made him happy, was it? It was who she pretended to be. She briefly wondered what he would think if she told him about killing the man-eating mudfish, and reaching her entire arm down the beast’s slimy gullet.

They walked slowly, gazing at the treetops and water, the fog robbing the latter of its normal reflective sheen, and making it hard to distinguish where one ended and the other began. Not that Ilaria particularly minded. She loved the fog. It wrapped around her like a cool blanket, kissing her cheeks as if it were a promise. If there was one thing that loved her for who she was, it was Xeroianjj.

She appreciated the irony that on one of her few nights off, she was stuck spending it with Zielinski. In truth, she had been hoping to disappear into the forest the moment Suellen had gone to work.

“I didn’t recognize the togruta you were walking with earlier,” he observed.

“She’s new,” Ilaria said airily. “Her name is Suellen. She and her boyfriend came her a few weeks ago looking for work.” She didn’t bother to mention that they had been displaced due to the Empire, even though she would have loved to make a snide remark about it. “How long have you been coming here, Commander? A standard year now?”

He affirmed that it had been about that long.

“You have become quite the man in that time,” she said, and she meant it. He certainly had filled out, and his face, though not hard on the eyes, had adopted a certain weariness.

His thick eyebrows furrowed together and he stopped to regard her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to describe,” said Ilaria. “You just seem…more sure of yourself is all that I meant.”

Zielinski stared at her long and hard, and he finally nodded. As they continued walking, his expression softened into thoughtfulness and he kept his eyes trained ahead. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he said at last. “I’ve decided what kind of man I want to be.”

“And what kind of man is that?”

He didn’t answer, though, and instead seemed to be lost in thought for some time. Ilaria could feel the swelling emotions within him. The confusion, the fear, the hope. She wished that she was at liberty to reach out farther with the Force, to figure out exactly what he was thinking, or at least try to.

When he finally spoke again, he asked her, “What was it like before here before The Resort was built?”

Ilaria thought of the first time she had climbed all the way up to the top of a livimmae tree. When she had looked down, she thought she was going to be sick. One wrong step, and she would fall to certain death.

“Different,” she said carefully. “Simpler, I suppose, but harder.”

“You can speak freely to me,” he said.

 _No, I can’t_ , Ilaria thought. _I never can_.

“This place will always be my home,” she said warmly, the words ringing true to her core. It was all she was really willing to say on the matter, and she hoped he would leave it that.

“You would never want to leave,” he stated simply, his voice lacquered in something that she could only read as disappointment.

She thought of Walker, and how thrilled he would be if she certainly said that she never wanted to leave Xeroianjj.

“I don’t know,” Ilaria found herself saying. “Leaving has never felt like an option.”

“What if it was?”

This time, it was Ilaria’s turn to stop them. “What?”

Zielinski turned to face her, his warm brown eyes suddenly intense. “What if you could leave?”

“What are you saying, Commander?”

“What I’m saying is that after I leave the Imperial army, I would like to marry you.”

Ilaria normally prided herself on how hard it was to surprise her, given her abilities, but as soon as she registered what Zielinski had said, her mind went blank. Her mouth parted and all she could do was stare at him as she tried to comprehend. She knew he had felt for her, but she never expected _that_.

“Wh-what about Conrad?”

Hope began to consume Zielinski’s handsome face. “I’ve already made an arrangement with him. I’ve put down a deposit, and I will cover your rations until I leave the Imperial Navy. When I leave, I will finish the payment, and you’re free.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Ilaria stared at the ground. This was her chance to leave. But could she leave the flock, the trees behind? Could she leave her home? Could she marry a man that she didn’t love? Was that really freedom?

She instantly knew the answer to the last question: no.

“Take your time,” Zielinski said gently, tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t…I don’t want to make you leave if you don’t want to. I’ll be here for the next three rotations. Let me know when you have come to a decision.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze and for a moment she thought he was going to say more, but he simply strode back into town, leaving her alone in the fog.

Ahsoka stood in stunned silence, hidden in the shadows as she watched Zielinski stride past, his face flushed red. Her hearing was better than a human’s, and so she had heard every word exchanged. She now understood why Zielinski wanted to turn against the Empire, why he had reached out to the Rebellion.

He had fallen in love with a slave.

She reflected that there was also something to be said about Ilaria if she could make a man re-evaluate his life so drastically. From her reaction to his proposal, Ahsoka got the feeling that it had been completely unintentional as well. She briefly wondered what would happen if Ilaria set her mind to making Imperial officers reconsider their careers…

Ilaria stood, an elegant statue in the spot he had left her, staring into the forest. The minutes ticked by, and she took two steps in the direction of the forest before turning around and dutifully striding towards the town. She didn’t look back.  


Not daring to move until she was sure Ilaria was gone, Ahsoka crept her way to where she and Harland had been staying, and slipped inside. He was getting ready to leave for work, and did a double take when she appeared.  


“I thought you were getting tea with Ilaria before your shift?”

“I was,” Ahsoka said, leaning against the wall and thinking. “We were interrupted by Commander Zielinski.”

“ _What_?”

“It seems that Tennille was right about his affections,” said Ahsoka slowly. “Because, Zielinski just asked Ilaria to marry him.”  


Harland gaped. “How do you know? What did she say? Can she even leave this place?”  


“I was spying on them,” she said, surprised by how reluctant she was to admit it. It was her _job_ to be a spy. She shouldn’t have felt guilty. “He said that he offered to buy her from Conrad, and she didn’t answer him. He told her to think about it and left.” Her tone was oddly calm, modulated. “This could complicate things.”

“Maybe it won’t,” Harland said hopefully. “Maybe she will turn him down, and he will accept it.”

Ahsoka wanted to tell him just how far fetched that idea was, but she didn’t. She merely nodded. “Maybe.”

“We will figure it out,” Harland promised, slipping on his boots. “I’ve got to go. I can’t be late for my shift.” He paused at the door, and gave her a look that Ahsoka didn’t quite comprehend. Was it pity, hope? “It will work out—somehow.”

He left, and Ahsoka remembered that she had her own shift to go to. She had yet to be less enthused to head towards the towering wall of thick, polished boards, that emerged from the fog and into the then-night time sky with an undeniable sense of doom that not even the moons could wash away.


	8. Chapter 8

The forest. She needed the forest.

Ilaria went back to Else’s, thankful that the old woman liked to go to bed early. Quiet as could be, she went upstairs and retrieved her backpack with her grey cloak and traded her boots for her lightweight leather moccasins, which were much more suited for bounding through treetops. Exiting the home once again, she disappeared into the long shadows of the town, glancing up to see the sky going as dark as velvet and crystals. In the dark of an adjacent building, she produced her cloak from the backpack and pulled it over her shoulders and the hood over her head, effectively shrouding her face.

Her legs felt weak and wobbly, and she went as far across the knee-roots as she could bear. Apparently, Braetis had been keeping tabs on her, though, because she hardly made it very far before she sensed him coming. He swooped down, just low enough for her next leap to land her on his back. He immediately angled upwards, eventually emerging above the fog, and she closed her eyes, hearing only the thrum of his wings as he carried her home.

Zielinski proposed.

He put a deposit down on her, and already set it in motion for him to buy her from Conrad.

She was furious, fuming, and the longer she thought about it, the angrier she became. Did her opinion not even matter when it came to being bought and sold like a kriffing gervi fruit? Was that all she was? A commodity to be bought and sold?

Hell, Zielinski didn’t even know who she was!

He had no idea.

Her one evening off, and she got to spend it figuring out what she was supposed to do. How in all the worlds worth a damn was she supposed to turn down a proposal from an Imperial officer, who had also already made arrangements to buy her?

It occurred to her that she didn’t work again until the late shift the following evening. It also occurred to her that she wanted little more than the release of sleep for a few hours. She could meditate tomorrow.

At her hut, she retrieved her singing crystal from its spot under the mattress, and she fell asleep with it clutched in her fist, her blanket pulled up to her chin, silently telling herself that things would work out.

The next morning, she woke before the sun rose, when the sky was just beginning to turn grey. She had made a saddle for Braetis a while ago, padded leather and straps made so that she could bear longer flights with slightly more comfort. She packed the saddle bags with ration packs and water bottles, pausing to stroke Braetis’ chin. “This is going to be close on time.”

On a second thought, she packed her singing crystal as well.

The Mother Tree was the oldest on all of Xeroianjj, its size almost incomprehensible to something as small and young as a human. It’s unique aspect was that the center of the tree was hollow, from the water to the sky above, which was also where the only two entrances to the arid center were. Like an upside-down V above the water, the lower entrance to the hollowed innards of the Mother Tree hung above the water, beginning to glow as the morning sun grew late, shining golden light down from above. The bottom of the entrance was just wide enough that even a yarkiokkajj Braetis’ size could fly into it if his talons were skinning the top of the water.

Inside, the hollowed portion of the Mother Tree was serene and roughly circular, the walls painted with cryptic symbols and images that had lost their meaning for tens of thousands of years. It was spacious enough for Braetis to comfortably fly around the circumference of the place, and in the center of the watery bottom, a large, round stone rose two meters from the water. The stone was flat, and green moss clung to its sides. It was on this stone that Braetis deposited Ilaria before flying out of the Mother Tree, leaving her in peace (although she knew that he wouldn’t go too far).

Sitting cross-legged at the very center of the stone, still damp from the night. All of her anger was gone, replaced by an explicable sense of peace even before she rested her hands limply on her knees, closing her eyes and taking a long, measured breath as she reached out into the Force around her.

Here, she was safe—untouchable.

Experiencing the life-Force of the Xeroianjj forest from a distance or evening on the edges, was one thing, but experiencing the life-Force of the expansive network of ancient trees at their center, was something else entirely. In Ilaria’s opinion, it encompassed everything the Force could be. Over the tens of thousands of years, the Mother Tree had seen her share of sentients; Ilari the most recent in the long line of Force users to discover the ancient holy place. The Mother Tree was an embodiment of the living Force, and to sit and meditate with it was to feel _alive_ , to be seamlessly at one with the Force.

Ilaria thought she had a million questions to ask, but once she fell into her meditation, she realized that there was only one thing she had to do: move forward.

Ahsoka stepped out of the house, and took in a deep breath, automatically glancing in the direction of the secret underwater path leading to the old colony. She thought of the way the nightlight turned Ilaria’s hair silver, and her words from the night they drank liquor in the old colony echoed in her mind: _please do me the favor of not taking me for an idiot._

She was beginning to feel as if she were missing something.

It was clear that the Force had brought her and Ilaria’s paths together, and she was becoming more and more determined to find out why. Moving slow and trance-like as she thoughtfully walked, letting the Force guide her feet, she eventually found herself standing outside Else and Ilaria’s door.

She knocked, and heard a brief shuffling and the tap of a walking stick as Else made her way to the door, peering over her glasses at Ahsoka. “I’m sorry dear, Ilaria isn’t here.”

“Oh. I…Where is she?”

Else shook her head. “Heaven’s knows with that girl. Would you like some tea?”

Ahsoka agreed, hoping that Ilaria would appear while they had tea, and followed Else inside. The home was familiar to her now, and she helped heat the water and pull down the clay mugs for the tea while Else mixed leaves and flowers.

Neither of them spoke until they were seated comfortably in the common room, the warmth of the water seeping through the clay mug and into Ahsoka’s fingertips.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Else asked kindly. “You seem troubled.”

 _If only I could tell you_ , Ahsoka thought glumly. In fact, for a shining moment she was almost tempted to tell the old woman, but she resisted the urge. Even if it wasn’t an extraordinarily dangerous thing for her to do, how would she even begin to explain?

“I am just tired. Work has been exhausting lately.”

Else regarded her, taking a leisurely sip of tea before saying, “There’s a story about Ilaria I don’t think I’ve told you yet.”

“What story is that?”

The old woman pulled a blanket across her lap, making herself comfortable. “Our colonies, for as many generations as we could remember, were always preyed upon by the yarkiokkajj. Not that we didn’t deserve it. We hunted them, they hunted us. It was a natural, vicious cycle. We didn’t clash all the time, but when we did, it never ended well.

“It was always hard to keep the children safe. You know children, too curious and brave for their own good. And then there was Ilaria. Even from the time she was little, the girl loved to wander off on her own, chasing insects and snakes and bait fish and such. Not only that, but when she was a youngling, her hair was so bright that it was almost white! It made her stand out like a beacon. Her mother, stars bless that poor woman, always fretted the yarkiokkajj would spot her because of her hair, and she did her best to hide her. She would coat Ilaria’s hair in mud to try to hide the color.

“One day, when she was about eight standard years, or was it seven? Well, she was around that age, and she had wandered off again. We couldn’t find her anywhere, and we soon found that one of the paddle boards was missing. We feared the worst.

“The entire colony went searching for her. I went out with her mother, into the forest with nothing but a hunting spear, mind you! We went farther into the forest than I had even been, and then, we found her. She was in the middle of tree-roots four times as tall as you! She stood on a paddle board, reaching up, and suspended above her was an adult yarkiokkajj. I will never forget the beast, as dark and rich a green as the finest jewels you can imagine. Naturally, we were terrified, but we needn’t be. The beast was being so gentle with her. It was sniffing her hair, and she was giggling as it’s forked tongue tickled her cheek. She pet it right on the chin, almost falling off the paddle board trying to reach it.

“Her mother gasped, and that was when the yarkiokkajj realized we were there. It flew off, leaving her unharmed. I thought her poor mother was going to keel over right there, and I was going to have to fish her out of the water. She scolded Ilaria the entire ride back to the colony, and little Ilaria insisted that the trees had called her into the forest.”

Else finished her story, she simply sipped her tea and waited.

Ahsoka realized she had the missing piece, the missing gear she had been searching for: it had been right in front of her the entire time. It was _Ilaria_ the Force was leading her to. _Ilaria_ was the mysterious Force-user they had seen on their first night on Xeroianjj. Who else could it have been? She thought of the visions the life-Force of the forest had shown her, of the little girl with mud in her hair.

_Please do me the favor of not taking me for an idiot._

It all made sense.

Ilaria had known from the first day Ahsoka set foot on Xeroianjj that she wasn’t who she said she was. She knew all along.

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, “Why are you telling me this?”

Else swirled her mug, poking at one of the flower petals that floated at the top before arresting Ahsoka with her sagely expression, “Because I want you to promise me something.”

Ahsoka took a steady breath, aware that her heart was beating very quickly. “What?”

“Please, take care of her.”

She stared dumbly, her mind racing to comprehend the implications of what was happening, the words being spoken. “What do you mean?”

“I am old,” Else said, her brown eyes boring into Ahsoka. “My time is coming to an end. I have known Ilaria all her life, and have always known that she was different, meant for more than our little planet. I know you care for her, and now, as someone who cares for her as well, I’m asking you: please take care of her. Civilizations tend to not like creatures born wild.”

Ahsoka held the old woman’s gaze, and nodded slowly, feeling as if she were standing high in the clouds rather than sitting in a comfortable chair. The weight of her next words grounded her, “I will do my best.”

“That is all we can do.”


	9. Chapter 9

Ilaria waited until the dusk was almost night before she leaped from the knee-roots to the artificial bank that the Resort and respective Town nestled on. Her air was thick with moisture and the sweet scent of mud.

She no longer cared about making it to her next shift.

Something was different in the Force. She could feel it.

Stopping in the shadows of one building, she stripped off her cloak and shoved it into her backpack. Her senses were on high alert, and she resisted the urge to reach out around her. She couldn’t take any more risks of putting Suellen on her trail, and she had a feeling that whatever change had occurred was due to her curious friend.

What could have caused such a change?

She only came up with one answer: Else.

Sticking to the shadows and moving as if she were born to them, Ilaria made her way towards the house she partially shared with the senior. The streets were already beginning to grow more active, making it all the more harder for her to maintain her stealth without using the Force. Finally, she came to house and glanced through the window to see Else sitting alone in the common room.

Moving like a ghost, she slipped into the house, and was immediately met but the old woman’s smile, tinged with sadness.

“Suellen stopped by.”

“And?”

“She knows.”

Ilaria froze, her heart suddenly beating ferociously.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing she didn’t already know,” said Else calmly. “Ilaria, you know as well as I do what is coming next. I do not know who she is, but she has created a new path for you. Or perhaps, it was the path you were meant for all along.”

Unable to stand still, Ilaria began to pace. “I don’t like it went you speak in riddles, Else.”

The old woman smiled. “Because you are as blunt as a tree trunk. You only speak in riddles when you want to confuse others, or are confused yourself.”

“So, you have told me.”

“If I were you, I would go upstairs and pack whatever you may want to bring with you.”

Ilaria stopped and stared at Else. She had always known that Else sometimes had…premonitions about the future, and her tone… “Else, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you should go upstairs, and pack a backpack. Then, come downstairs, take the bag of herbs and teas I have packed for you, give me a hug, and leave this house, and don’t look back.”

She said it so simply, as if it were as easy as cleaning a mudfish spear after a hunt. “Else…”

Her old eyes were bright with tears. “Please, Ilaria, you are running out of time.”

Not knowing what else to do, Ilaria raced up the steep stairs. Most of what she owned she kept at her hut in the forest, but there was still some things she kept at Else’s. She opened her backpack, pulling out her cloak and filling it with the few things she thought could be useful: her makeup, her nice dresses, and the stash of credits she hid under the sleeping mat. She also grabbed the golden necklace she hid there—the one with the circular pendant that had once been her mothers. That, she put around her neck. On top of it all, she put her cloak. She had a feeling that she would be needing it.

When she came back downstairs, Else was standing in the kitchen waiting. She held a cloth bag, which she added to Ilaria’s backpack.

“Some teas,” she said. “So that you don’t forget your home.”

Ilaria was aware that tears were running down her cheeks, and her throat was painfully tight. There was no stopping it now: she had begun the journey forward. “I won’t.”

“I know, love.” Else gave her a tight hug and whispered in her ear, “I love you, child. Don’t forget who you are.”

“I love you too,” Ilaria croaked through her tears.

She was numb with grief until the moment she stepped outside that door, and it closed behind her for the last time. The fresh air hit her lungs, and she pushed her grief away. The Force gave her energy as she moved through the streets, letting it lead her feet without even trying.

She found Suellen a few blocks from downtown, at the edge of the buildings and in the looming shadows of the forest. She was waiting, her brown cloak pulled over her montrals, staring into the forest and only turning when Ilaria stopped a few meters away. Her eyes shone, reflecting the moonslight. She looked stoic, beautifully unreal.

How was it already night again?

Ilaria felt naked and exposed without her cloak, her backpack unusually heavy on her shoulders. “You know, it’s not considered good manners to show up at people’s houses without an invitation.”

A shadow of a smile crept to Suellen’s dark lips. “I was just trying to find you.”

“I believe you did.”

“Ilaria, I’m here to help you. There’s a reason our paths…” Suellen froze, cocking her head slightly as she listened. “Someone’s running this way,” she said, and then Ilaria heard the footsteps too. Heavy, coming fast. She wished she could reach out with the Force to discern who was heading towards them, but she was too distracted, her thoughts were racing too much...

The footsteps grew closer, and then, to Ilaria’s shock, Commander Zielinski appeared around the corner, his face ashen in the darkness. He was breathing hard. She didn’t even have to reach out to feel the fear he radiated.

“Ilaria…thank the stars,” he gasped. “We need to go. Now.” He tried to grab her hand and pull her away, but Ilaria stood her ground, leaning back against his weight. Her stomach was working itself into a sickening knot. 

“Commander, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Voras the Hutt,” he said between breaths. “Voras bought you from Conrad. He plans to have you shipped back to his home tonight. I tried to outbid him but I didn’t have enough credits. I appealed to my Admiral. He said that since Conrad returned my deposit, it was fair. I’ve been ordered to ‘stay in my hyperspace lane.’”

A cold numbness ran over Ilaria as she realized what he was saying. No, there wasn’t time to go numb. It was beginning. She had to act.

She squeezed his hand. “Commander, I appreciate you telling me this, but you must return to your barrack. If your Admiral finds you here, you will be punished.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving you to a Hutt. I came to get you out of here before Voras’ bounty hunters came to collect you. There’s a cargo ship in the yard that we can steal. I’ve been in contact with some people that could help us-“

This was going too far. Ilaria was painfully aware of Suellen’s continued presence there, listening to every word.

“Stop,” said Ilaria, allowing an edge in her voice that she had never used with Zielinski before. “Stop—stop Commander. I can’t just leave. I have…I have…” She trailed off and the hairs on her arm stood on end. “Get down!”

She dragged Zielinski to the ground as green blaster bolts soared where his head had been a moment before.

Coming to her other side, Suellen had dropped to a crouch as well. “Run!” she hissed, and they ran for the cover of the nearest building, a mixture of blaster and stun bolts trailing behind them.

“You were followed,” Suellen hissed to Zielinski.

The whites of his eyes shone in the night. “I-I didn’t know.”

“We can’t worry about that now,” said Ilaria, desperately trying to think of a way out. The forest was only a few strides away. She could easily make it, but that would mean leaving the others...well, likely just leaving Zielinski. No matter how she felt about the man, she wouldn’t do it. “We need to find a way out of here.”

Suellen nodded. “Ilaria, is there anywhere in town we could hide?”

She wracked her mind, and came up blank. They had to move. “There’s nothing in town.”

“Commander Zielinski!” a gruff voice called from where the blaster fire had originated: a nearby rooftop. “Theft is a crime in the Empire! This is your only warning! Turn over the property you’ve stolen, or you will be killed!”

Ilaria felt her rage flair. Property? _Property?_

“The forest,” she said through gritted teeth. She would find a way to get Zielinski through the forest. “The forest is the only safe place.”

He gaped at her. “Are you mad? The yarkiokkajj will eat us!”

“It’s chance the yarkiokkajj or get shot now!”

Suellen nodded, her eyes narrowed in determination. “The yarkiokkajj it is. Run for it on one—two—”

The world exploded. Or at least, that was what it felt like.

The wall they had been using for cover burst outward with a ball of fire and wood before going black.

When Ilaria came to, she had a sharp, lacing pain in her arm. And her thigh. She forced herself to sit up, crying out in pain. Beside her lay an unconscious Suellen, a large piece of splintered wood in her side, her clothes coloring with blood. And beyond her…

“Oh, hell…”

Zielinski had been thrown on his back, his neck at a crooked, unnatural angle. His glassy eyes stared directly at her, his mouth hanging open, exposing his perfectly straight teeth. Blood trickled from his nose.

“What a shame,” a wicked voice cackled. A weequay bounty hunter stalked through the charred and burning wood, the shadows flickering across this mottled face.

“You’ll regret that,” snarled Ilaria, her anger welling.

The bounty hunter laughed. “I’m sure, sweetheart. Now, your owner is waiting.”

Sharp, hot anger and terror focused Ilaria’s mind to cold precision. She reached out with the Force, overwhelming the weequay’s mind as if it was made of sand. She felt his greed, the pride he took in his kills. Vile. Poison.

“Sleep, and forget,” she commanded venomously, and he slumped to the ground amid the wreckage like a deactivated droid.

Soon, his companions would come.

They would all come.

Gritting her teeth, Ilaria struggled to her feet, letting out a low whine as pain laced up her leg. She had a large piece of wood embedded in her thigh. And her arm. That’s why they hurt.

She hobbled over to Suellen and nudged her. “Su, wake up.” The togruta slowly opened her eyes, her face twisting in pain. “You’re hurt,” Ilaria explained. “Pretty bad. But we need to go. Now. They’re coming for us.” She could feel the chaos of emotions and excitement welling further in the town.

Suellen nodded groggily, and Ilaria helped her up. “Zielinski?”

“Dead,” Ilaria answered flatly. “We need to go into the forest. Can you run?”

“If I have to.”

“You’re going to have to.” _Now’s the real test_ , Ilaria added privately. “Follow my lead.”

Ignoring the pain each step caused, Ilaria ran for the forest, using the Force to launch her onto the roots. As she had done a million times before, she ran across them, letting the Force to guide her feet in the darkness.

Behind her, Suellen followed.

“How…far?” she gasped between jumps, pain leaking through her voice.

“As far as you can go,” Ilaria called back. “They’ll only go so far into the forest.”

No reply came, and Ilaria didn’t risk glancing back. She poured everything she had into running forward, relying on the Force to keep track of Suellen’s presence. When they were far enough, she threw out her mind to the flock, calling for their help.

She slowed down until she was standing on two roots, panting. Her legs shook with the effort of standing, and she was intimately aware of the wood splintering into her muscles.

Suellen came to a stop on a couple of roots adjacent to her, gasping for breath and clutching her side. Without thinking about it, Ilaria reached out a hand, offering a grip for Suellen to steady herself on. In the darkness, her white markings glowed, the whites of her eyes flashed. “Who…are…you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ilaria replied. She reached out with the Force, touching Suellen’s mind, letting her consciousness wrap around it like velvet. Luckily, the togruta was already close to unconsciousness. That made the next part easier. “Now, sleep.”

Suellen—or whoever she was—fought it, but it only took a matter of seconds for her eyes to close.

A yarkiokkajj swooped down from the branches above, catching her before she could fall.


	10. Chapter 10

Ahsoka blinked slowly, struggling to adjust to the sunlight streaming in her eyes.  
There had been an explosion. She had been running through the forest, following Ilaria…bleeding…and then she had fallen asleep…

_Ilaria._

Ahsoka’s hands went to her stomach where she wood had pierced her. She felt the stiff ripped fabric, crusted with blood, and beneath that, smooth skin. Cautiously, she sat up. There was no pain. Her wound had been completely healed.

How long had she been out?

She examined her surroundings and found that she was sitting on a bed in a small hut made of woven grass and mud, similar to the ones Ilaria had showed her...how many rotations ago? Its only contents were the bed, a small wooden table, and a few shelves of ration packs and water canisters and other unmarked brown bags. She felt the folds of her cloak. Her lightsabers were gone.

Ahsoka stood, the smooth bark floor cool on her bare feet. She crept to the door and peered out, shocked at what she saw.

She was in some strange forest, where the trees and the ground were all the same smooth bark. Nestled between some of the trees were giant nests woven from grass and mud. All around her was large, glittering winged reptiles that could have only been one thing: the yarkiokkajj.

She was in a yarkiokkajj nest.

Of course. Else had been trying to tell her all along.

The beast closest to her was a dark emerald green, and easily the size of a trooper transport. It regarded her with a large yellow eye before huffing and lumbering off.

Deciding that it seemed relatively safe, Ahsoka crept from the hut and made her way through the nest, gingerly passing around yarkiokkajj and nests alike. None of the creatures seemed to care much about her presence. They were large, the adults almost four meters to their shoulders, and their scales glittered brilliantly in the sunlight.

She wandered through the forest, using the Force as her guide. Now, she could feel Ilaria’s presence as clear as day, unmistakable, rolling and rumbling like charged ozone—the electric calm before thunder broke and lightening cracked.

Ahsoka found her sitting cross-legged in a beam of sunlight, eyes closed. She still wore her Scales uniform, which was ripped, spotted with brown, dried blood in a few places. Her hands rested on her knees. In one fist she clutched Ahsoka’s lightsabers, and in the other, something too small for Ahsoka to see clearly.

“Who are you?” she asked without opening her eyes. “Really, I mean.”

Ahsoka hesitated, and made up her mind. “My real name is Ahsoka Tano,” she said, approaching Ilaria and sitting down across from her, mirroring her position. For a flash, she considered reaching for her lightsabers, and thought the better of it.

Ilaria opened her eyes, and in the sunlight they reflected golden. Her expression was unfathomable. “Nice to meet you, Ahsoka Tano. That name suits you more than Suellen. Why did you come to Xeroianjj?”

“I work with a group of people interested in the downfall of the Empire,” she said, deciding Ilaria would accept only the truth. “I came here to learn more about The Resort and recruit Commander Zielinski to spy for us within the Imperial army.” And she then added, “You knew from the first night that I wasn’t who I said I was. Why did you continue to help me?”

At the mention of Zielinski’s name, a shadow passed over Ilaria’s expression. Her expression was fiercer, sharper than Ahsoka had ever seen. “We all have reasons for lying about who we are. I think you will appreciate it when I say that I understand why it can be necessary, and that it doesn’t necessarily correlate to mal intention.” She looked down, examining Ahsoka’s lightsabers. “You’re a Jedi.”

“I used to be,” said Ahsoka with a pang. “I left the Jedi order before…”

“The rise of the Empire,” Ilaria finished for her. “Before the Jedi were terminated for treachery, or so we’ve been told.” She rolled the hilts around in her palm, the metal clinking together. Her expression softened to thoughtfulness. “No one ever told me that lightsabers sing.”

“Yes, I suppose they do,” said Ahsoka, rather taken by the observation. “It’s the kyber crystals within them. Force sensitive beings can sense them, we can hear them sing.”

“Crystals,” Ilaria repeated, clutching her other fist tighter and then releasing it. She revealed what rested in her palm, a small, sky-blue crystal. A kyber crystal. It shone proudly in the sunlight. “Like this one?”

“Exactly like that one,” Ahsoka confirmed, her thoughts turning over like a lightspeed engine. “Where did you find it?”

“In the water a few years ago. I was running along the livimmae roots one day and I heard it singing. I went down in the water and there it was. The roots had wrapped around it, like they were protecting it. It has sang to me ever sense.”

“Because you were meant to have it,” said Ahsoka, stroking her chin as she thought. “Ilaria, how did you learn to use the Force? Did someone teach you? Did Else teach you?”

Ilaria motioned around her. “The trees and the yarkiokkajj taught me. I wouldn’t call it formal a formal education, though. I just did as they did.”

“The yarkiokkajj taught you?”

Ilaria nodded. “I call it the mind Force. That’s how they communicate, through images and feelings that the pass through send to each other through the Force.”

“That’s how you were able to make me fall asleep,” Ahsoka guessed.

“Yes.”

“To be able to enter another Force users mind so easily…I’ve never heard of it. Even among the Jedi. We were taught that Force mind tricks can only be used on the weak-minded.”

A shadow of the familiar impish smile crossed Ilaria’s features. “Maybe you are weak minded.”

“I don’t think so,” said Ahsoka wryly. “We are each strong with the Force in different ways. You are strong with it within the mind. But, how did you heal me? That wound was serious. It would have taken a massive amount of energy to heal.”

“The yarkiokkajj can be generous. And they like any excuse to spent a few days napping. I am simply a conduit for their energy.” Ilaria extended an arm, offering Ahsoka her lightsabers. “I didn’t want to risk you coming at me with your laser swords when you woke up.”

Ahsoka took the familiar weight of the hilts in each hand. The Force swirled around her and used her mouth to speak, “Would you like to learn how to use one?”

“Use what—a lightsaber?”

“Yes,” said Ahsoka, clarity coming to her. “I think you’re the reason I was meant to come to Xeroianjj. The Force led our paths together. The kyber crystal calls you. They only do that when you’re ready for a lightsaber of your own.”

Ilaria’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying come with me,” said Ahsoka, the words spilling out on their own accord. “Your life on Xeroianjj as you know it is over. You can either live here in the forest with the yarkiokkajj, or you can come with me.”

Ilaria stared at her for a long time, still except for the hand that held her kyber crystal. She rubbed it between her fingers.

Watching her think, Ahsoka no longer saw the wily, flirtatious bartender she had met a few weeks prior. No, she was looking at a sharp, wild, powerful product of the Force left unchecked, unrefined. _You can’t tame a yarkiokkajj_.

Finally, Ilaria nodded grimly. “We need a change of clothes and a ship.”

It didn’t take long for Ilaria to pack her things from her hut. To her already almost-full backpack, she added the credits she had hidden in her hut, another change of clothes, a comb and scissors for her hair, and her kyber crystal, which she safely tucked into her pocket. She brought only a few ration packs and one bottle of water, leaving the rest. Just in case.

She took one last look at the home she had built with her own two hands, and exited it for the last time. Her cloak was a reassuring weight on her shoulders.

Ahsoka was waiting outside, scratching the chin of a baby yarkiokkajj and smiling. She looked much more comfortable now that the truth was out in the open. Her lightsabers hung at her hips, and the hood of her brown cloak around her shoulders. Her expression softened when she caught sight of Ilaria. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

The yarkiokkajj must have sensed what was happening, because the flock slowly began to merge and form a circle around them. Even the younglings and newly hatched babies, wrapping around the legs of their mothers.

Ilaria closed her eyes and felt them within the Force. She felt each and every one of them, and expressed to them every bit of love she had for them, and the sadness she felt at leaving them. And in return, she felt a rush of love and something more: hope.

When she opened her eyes again, she had to wipe them to stave off the tears threatening to spill over. Moving forward, she reminded herself, and despite the sadness at leaving the nest, she felt a thrill of excitement.

She was going to the stars.

Braetis lumbered forward, and bowed. It had been years since she needed to ask him for anything—he just always knew.

Ilaria climbed nimbly onto his back, and offered a hand to pull Ahsoka up behind her. She felt her cheeks grow hot as Ahsoka wrapped an arm around her waist to hold on.

“Ready when you are,” said Ahsoka, her breath hot on the back of Ilaria’s neck.

Stars, she was glad that Ahsoka couldn’t see her face. “Right. Off we go.”

Braetis slithered forward and leaped off the top of the livimmae tree, free falling for a brief moment, causing Ahsoka’s grip to tighten around Ilaria waist as weightlessness consumed them both. And then, he expanded his wings and went into a gentle downwards glide to where the branches were thinner.

“This is amazing,” said Ahsoka. She turned her head to look behind them, and one of her lekku caught the wind and flew up, smacking Ilaria in the face. She quickly reached up and pulled it back, “Stang, sorry!”

“It’s fine,” said Ilaria, rubbing her stinging cheek. “At least I can now say that I’ve been smacked in the face by lekku while riding a yarkiokkajj. I must be the first in the galaxy.”

Ahsoka guffawed, and Ilaria felt a thrill of excitement deep in her stomach.

It didn’t last, though, because as they neared the edge of the forest, Braetis glided lower and lower, until they were barely skimming above the tree knees. Ilaria found herself thinking of Zielinski, and pushing him to the back of her mind. She couldn’t shake her role in his death, or how she had apparently misjudged him. She would have to process that later.

Braetis stopped a half a klick away from the edge of the forest, latching onto an livimmae tree so that they hung vertical.

“This is where we stop,” said Ilaria. “He wont get any closer to the Resort.”

Ahsoka released her grip on Ilaria’s waist and dropped down, lithely landing on the tree knees below.

Ilaria gave Braetis a pat, and was about to say goodbye when something stopped her—not yet. She dropped down from his back and landed on the roots beside Ahsoka, wobbling slightly from the weight of her backpack.

Braetis let out a growl, and scrambled up the trunk a short ways before pushing off and extending his wings, heading back in the direction they had come.

“Come on,” said Ilaria as he vanished among the trunks. “We still have a ways to go.” She took off along the roots, in the direction of town, her apprehension building, and Ahsoka followed.

They came to the edge of the forest across from the house where Ahsoka and her rebel-partner-but-not-boyfriend Harland had been staying, peering out from behind a tree trunk. A pair of stormtroopers marched by, and they hid behind a tree trunk until they had gone.

“Great,” muttered Ilaria. “They normally don’t patrol the edges of town. Hell, they hardly ever patrol at all.”

“There’s not a lot of them,” said Ahsoka mildly, peering around the trunk.

“Yeah, that’s great and all, but I’ve never really been taught how to fight before. I usually get out of things with my cheekbones.”

“You can leave that to me.” The patrol was gone, and she leapt from behind the tree, across the final knee roots to the solid ground.

“The fighting or the cheekbones?” mumbled Ilaria, following.

They dashed across the open space between the tree line and the little house. Ahsoka gripped one of her lightsabers as she quietly opened the door and slipped inside.

Ilaria followed, and was immediately accosted by curly-haired Harland holding a blaster to her face. She put her hands up. “Hey, can you not shoot me in the face?”

His eyes took her up and down, hanging onto her cloak as his confusion morphed into recognition. “You?”

“Yes, me. Now can you please drop the blaster?”

His eyes darted to Ahsoka, who nodded.

He lowered his blaster; though he didn’t quite relax his grip on it completely. “Sorry about that. It’s been a weird day.”

“Tell me about it.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “What’s the status?”

“Well, for a minute there it looked like the Imperials and Varos’ hired guns were going to start fighting, but then they realized that Commander Zielinski was trying to steal a slave-“ -he paused and gave Ilaria an awkward glance- “-so he was stripped of rank and branded as a thief. The bounty hunter that killed him was a right mess when they found him. He was loony, and apparently couldn’t remember anything for the past six months.”

Ahsoka turned to Ilaria incredulously. “Can’t fight?”

“I meant in a _traditional_ sense.”

Harland cleared his throat, discomfort radiating from him. “Um yeah so they’ve been trying to find Ilaria, but that’s really it. Varos is mad and Conrad is mad, and the Empire is stepping up patrols since it looks like one of their guys started this mess. I was going to wait until you showed up before I signaled for a pick up. They’ve got pretty tight security at the shipyard right now, though.”

“What kind of ship is picking you up?” asked Ilaria, a plan already forming in her mind.

“A small freighter is picking _us_ up.”

“Perfect,” said Ilaria, crossing her arms and shifting her weight. “There’s an old colony a little over two hundred klicks from here that they can pick us up that. That way, we all avoid detection.”

Harland stared at her as if she had suddenly grown three heads. “And just how are we supposed to get there?”

Ilaria flashed him a wicked smile. “Flying.”

Now it was Ahsoka’s turn to frown. “I thought the yarkiokkajj wouldn’t get near the Resort?”

“The yarkiokkajj?” Harland repeated wildly.

However, Ilaria ignored him, only looking at Ahsoka, “They won’t, but they would go to Tarik if I asked nicely.”

Understanding began to cross Ahsoka’s features as she warmed up to the idea, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “It could work.”

“Unless you want to try the shipyard,” said Ilaria. “But that presents its own problems.”

“No, I think the colony is the safest way considering our current predicament.”

“The yarkiokkajj are safer?” Harland piped once more, looking between the two of them with disbelief. “Have you gone mad?”

“No,” Ilaria assured him. She was ready to move. She was afraid that if she stayed in town much longer, she would go back to Else’s, and she didn’t want to think of the Imperials and Conrad’s men questioning the old woman. “We should leave in the daylight, or else you might have some trouble.”

As Ahsoka and Harland quickly gathered their things, Ilaria paced as much as she could up and down the interior length of the house. Her life as she knew it was over. She was taking the metaphorical step off of a cliff, but at least there would be one last glorious flight.

For the last time, she was going home.


	11. Chapter 11

Ahsoka let Ilaria take the lead through the streets while she took up the rear, so that Harland walked between them like a clueless kath hound pup being herded along. He burned with questions, but had the sense to know that it wasn’t the time to ask.

In his private opinion, the mission had taken a wrong left turn into wild space.

He had noticed that something was going on between Ilaria and Ahsoka. Sure, it made sense for Ahsoka to get close to the local that they had hoped to recruit as a spy, who also conveniently was the romantic interest of their other potential spy, and that was what he attributed all the time the two were spending together as. If it was anyone else on the mission with him, he may have grown more suspicious, but it was Ahsoka, after all. She wasn’t the type to get so easily distracted. Still, what else was he supposed to think? Not that she had been wrong about the bartender’s possible usefulness at the time, but still, he noticed the way the two had been eyeing each other.

And then, and _then_ , it turns out that Ilaria was actually the mysterious Force-using figure they had seen on their first night on Xeroianjj, and something had happened to make Ahsoka undeniably trust her. And then they were saying something about the giant flying reptiles that the locals said liked to eat people, colonies over 200 kilometers away, and no one seemed to be the slightest bit concerned about Zielinski being dead. Nope, they were already past that.

He wondered if the whirlwind craziness always accompanied Force-users.

Occasionally, as she led them to the farthest end of the artificial island, Ilaria would have them stop and slip into the shadows or an alley. Sure enough, a pedestrian or a pair of stormtroopers would stroll by, and oddly enough, they would never even give their trio a glance, even when they passed within meters of each other.

They came to the edge of the Resort Town ground, and Ilaria stepped right off of the raised dirt and into the water below. Harland sucked in his breath, expecting her to plummet, but there she stood with the water rippling around her knees.

“Watch your step,” she told him, all her former smiles and cheer gone. “Trust me, you don’t want to fall into the water here. The mudfish aren’t the only thing in this water that likes to eat humans.”

“Does everything on this planet like eating humans?”  
She cocked her head and considered it. “Most of native wildlife does. Now come on.”

She turned around and set off at a brisk pace, walking some invisible path underneath the water.

Realizing it would probably be in his best interest to stay on her heels, Harland scrambled down into the water behind her, and found himself standing on wooden planks that were hidden below the murky depths. He cringed as water soaked into his boots and pants, and set off after her, twisting to glance at Ahsoka as she waded after him. She gave him a reassuring nod.

The went on for some time, with Ilaria not even bothering to glance down as she walked the path, her graceful head occasionally twisting from side to side to survey the wilderness around her. Her grey cloak floated behind her like an adoring cape, and her hair shimmered gold in the sunlight. She looked like a monarch as she floated along the unseen path, the livimmae trees and daggergrass holding court for her.

Sometimes, a long, dark fin would emerge from the water near them, or a shadow would cross by not too far. However, nothing came too close, which Harland found exceedingly relieving.

They went on for some time in silence, until the Resort was consumed by the tall daggergrass and they were truly alone in the midst of the swampy wilderness. Harland resisted the urge to glance behind him at Ahsoka. If she trusted Ilaria, that had to be good enough for him.

Still, he felt as if they were walking into a trap.

“After Tarik, what’s the name of the second colony we’re going to?” he inquired as another fin almost a meter long surfaced not too far from them. “And how do you know about it?”

Ilaria took her time to answer. If the shadows moving beneath the water bothered her, she didn’t indicate so. Without pausing, she scooped down and dipped her hands in the water, running them over her face. “Aureate,” she answered. “It’s the colony where I was raised. Despite how far apart we were, we would often travel between colonies.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Conrad was in need of servants and workers. He had a payroll of mercenaries, and we had spears and grass nets. Guess who won.”

“Why didn’t you use your powers to stop them?”

Her shoulders tensed, and in the water beside them, a massive tailfin violently splashed, throwing water droplets at them.

It was Ahsoka whom answered him, “The Force does not make us invincible, Harland. There are limits to what we can do.”

The went on, following the curve of the forest in a stony silence until ahead, they were met by a series of degrading huts fashioned from daggergrass and mud, connecting by failing bridges, and in the center, a platform of split branches painted with black. Their underwater path led to the said platform, where Ilaria turned to face them, her expression unfathomable.

“Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

With an impossible jump, she leap from the water and onto the nearby knee trees that were two meters tall, balancing with one foot on each root. With feline-like agility, she took off into the forest, running across the knee-roots with her cloak flowing behind her like wings.

When she was gone Ahsoka gave him a sideways glance that may have had a trace of disappointment. “It would do you well to remember that the Empire has affected us all.”

“I know,” he sighed, unsure if he regretted what he had said or not.

It was Ahsoka’s turn to sigh, which was more of a heavy breath through her nose. She stared into the forest where Ilaria had vanished.

Harland try to relax and enjoy the scenery as they waited, but he kept imagining them getting eaten by giant lizards or fish.

Ilaria raced along the climbing knee-roots, taking care due to her wet, slippery shoes. She tried not to let the boy’s words rankle her, and so she poured her frustration into her long leaps and strides from root to root.

The truth of the matter was what could she have done, really? No one knew about her true abilities save for her mother and to some extent Else. All of the other colonists thought she was just strange. And even if they had known, would all of them restrained from turning her over to the Empire? Would they have followed her lead into the forest to live among the yarkiokkajj?

She knew the answers to these questions as simply as if it had been etched into the back of her hand: No.

Someone would have turned her over to the Empire, and they would come to decimate them. And even if no one did and by some miracle the colonists forgot their age-old rivalry with the yarkiokkajj and followed them into the forest, Conrad would have gotten suspicious. He was a curious man, and he would have scoured the planet for the missing colonists, effectively exposing the yarkiokkajj nests as well.

Her mother had seen as much as well, and had made her swear to not be a hero—to survive. Keep her head low, keep to herself, and don’t let anyone know who she really was. And what she was really capable of.

By the time Ilaria was sufficiently far into the trees, where the knee-roots were almost twenty meters above the water, her dark thoughts had flowed from her, as if the trees had taken it for her, leaving her with a calm acceptance. She cast out her mind into the Force, and called the yarkiokkajj.

It wasn’t long before she felt the familiar presences in her mind, and heard the thrum of wings in the air. Three yarkiokkajj came swooping from the treetops towards her, and in the lead, of course, was Braetis. She smiled as he gracefully landing on the roots before her, his hot breath washing over her face as he touched his nose to her forehead, just as he had done when they had first met.

“You always know,” she said, scratching his chin. “I should have known that it would be you to take me home.”

With another leap, she jumped onto his back, resting behind his shoulders and in front of his massive wings. She felt his muscles bunch as he prepared for the jump as if they were her own, and the massive downdraft of his wings as if it were her own lifting them from the roots. His whole body reverberated as he let out a growl of delight, cutting through the air with savage grace.

The other accompanying yarkiokkajj, Raté, who was a bright leafy green color, and the other, Lutun, was the same murky brown-green of the water, let out reciprocating growls, buffeting her with the gusts from their mighty wings. Despite herself, Ilaria laughed. They were her family as much as anything else, and she loved them dearly.

When they approached Tarik, where they had left Ahsoka and Harland, the yarkiokkajj folded their wings and touched down in the water with loud splashes that sprayed water in every which direction. With outstanding speed, Braetis dipped his long head and neck underwater, immediately resurfacing with a young shallowcrab that had been too slow in his maw, which he snapped with a deafening crunch and swallowed.

The other two were already swimming for where Ahsoka and Harland waited on the underwater bridge, the former smiling, and the latter gaping with a mixture of fear and wonder. The yarkiokkajj moved through the water as easily as air, siding up to the two and waiting patiently while they mounted. Ahsoka sat on Raté like she was born to it, stroking her long neck with appreciation while Harland cautiously clambered onto Lutun, looking quite awkward as he quietly asked the dragonoid not to eat him.

Ilaria barely hid a smile as the younger yarkiokkajj playfully snapped at his pants. “Ready?”

“This is insane,” Harland replied.

“Only if you’ve never done it before,” said Ilaria, extending a hand towards Harland and reaching out with the Force to steady him as Lutun readied to ascend. Sure enough, when Lutun launched from the water, Harland almost went rolling down the creature’s back, and was only stopped by a gentle Force push from Ilaria. Still, he yelled something indiscernible as Lutun spiraled upwards, hugging its neck.

Ahsoka laughed, her sharp canines flashing, as Raté spread her wings and soared into the air next, causing yet another wave of rolling, splashing water. The two yarkiokkajj circled above, waiting patiently with their cargo.

Ilaria steadied herself with the Force as Braetis spread his wings. “One long flight.”

Momentary weightlessness settled over her as they leveled out in the air alongside the other two, wind whipping at her face. The labyrinth of creeks shone in the primary light before them, the trees leaves glittering with emerald brilliance. From above, the Resort seemed small and insignificant compared to the rest of the planet, a thought that made Ilaria unerringly happy.

“What now?” Harland yelled, the wind almost stealing his words away. He maintained his death grip on Lutun’s neck.

In response, Ilaria sent only one mental image to Braetis, and then to the other yarkiokkajj: home.

Braetis climbed higher into the sky, raising his savage head towards the sun and letting out a shattering, metallic cry that made Ilaria’s chest hurt it was so loud. It was wild, untamable. She laughed as he cut back down to the others, rolled in his flight, and angled in the direction of her home.

It never ceased to amaze Ilaria how a journey that took rotations by paddleboard or, for the wiser colonists, canoe, merely took a hair under four standard hours by yarkiokkajj flight. In a way, Ilaria was grateful that they were flying so that she couldn’t get quite comfortable enough to accidentally fall asleep.  
Braetis must have sensed her wariness, because fresh energy began to seep into her bones, just enough for her to stave the weariness that was beginning to pull at her eyelids. She gave him a pat of thanks, and looked out over the horizon.

To her right, alongside the never-ending expansive of green treetops flew Harland and Lutun, and to her left, outlined against the blue-purple sky was Ahsoka and Raté. The sun was halfway down the sky, soon to be painting the world in its warm watercolors and throwing brilliant reflections off of the yarkiokkajj’s scales.

They began to slope downwards, and Ilaria’s heart rose to her throat as she spotted the colony ahead.

The roots that the huts were built on were too small to support the yarkiokkajj’s weight, and so they once again touched down in the water and swam as they neared the colony. Beneath the water, Ilaria felt the mudfish and shallowcrabs wisely flee.

Aureate was larger than Tarik, and some of the huts hugging the tree trunks were even two pitiful stories high. A latticework of bridges and swing ropes connected the huts, and there was even still some canoes still resting upside down on the surrounding knee-roots. Still, the place looked skeletal. The roofs on the huts were collapsing, and most of the walls had holes in them. The mud that offered them further stability had begun to wash and chip away as well. All in all, there was the remains of about twenty huts, roughly circled around a platform (large by Xeroianjj colony standards) that was made from split livimmae tree branches. That was where they used to butcher the mudfish and shallowcrabs, as well as perform ceremonies such as weddings.

The tree trunks were still scored from the blaster fire.

“There’s a mud flat across that channel that the yarkiokkajj can take us to when your friends arrive,” Ilaria told the others, hardly hearing her own words. Braetis swam over to the platform, and she stood carefully on his back. She stripped off her backpack and cloak, throwing them onto the platform. “There’s something in the marsh that I need to get.”

Ahsoka frowned slightly, and her mount swam closer. “What is that?”

“Over the years I’ve hidden bags of supplies in certain places around the planet,” Ilaria explained. “Credits, clothes, rations, and stuff that might come in handy one day. I tend to hide them in places where other people can’t really get to them. This one is at the bottom of the marsh here.” As she spoke, she was already dipping into the water beside Braetis, its cool embrace a familiar comfort.

Harland stared. “Didn’t you say that there was a lot of human-eating animals in the water?”

“Oh definitely,” Ilaria assured him, swimming out to where the roots shrunk and gave way to the marsh channel. Braetis, ever the protector, swam behind her. “The trick is to go swimming when the yarkiokkajj are around!”

She stopped in the middle of the channel and floated on her back, closing her eyes and reaching further into the Force around her. She could feel Ahsoka reaching out as well, and smiled.

She felt the water lapping at her skin, the daggergrass rustling, and the credit crabs (named after their small size) peering out from their tunnels underneath the cutting fronds. She felt the mudfish, twice her length, steering clear from the dangerous talons and teeth of Braetis, who swam nearby. Meters below, she felt the tiny fish and baby shallowcrabs flitting throughout the muddy bottom, and below that soft mud, her waterproof bag.

Taking a long breath, she dived under the water, squeezing her eyes shut and letting the Force guide her to her bag. The soft, cool mud swallowed her arm all the way up to her elbow as she reached, and she thought of how the sensation was not all too different from reaching down a mudfish gullet. She felt waterproof cloth in her hand, and used the Force to assist her as she pulled it from the mud, causing the stuff to swirl about her.

Ahsoka watched as the water stirred, and Ilaria emerged, her hair brown and slicked back against her head. Braetis immediately swam to her, curling around her like a protective mother, taking up the brown backpack that floated beside her in his deadly mouth and lifting it out of the water. He then swam back towards them, pulling

Ilaria along with its tail.

Braetis set the backpack on the platform, and lifted a sopping Ilaria to it with his surprisingly strong tail, the water droplets shining on her skin.

“Our ride will be here in a standard hour,” Ahsoka said.

“So, we’ve got time to kill,” Ilaria surmised, putting her hands on their hips and surveying them. “Do you two want to come up here?”

It seemed more ideal than sitting with her boots in the water, so Ahsoka agreed, and Braetis held out its tail for her to use as a step to leap onto the platform. Once she landed on the warm wood, she turned to see the him plucking a protesting Harland up by the back of his clothes like a loth kitten and setting him on the platform beside them.

She exchanged a glance with Ilaria, who was giggling, and allowed herself a laugh as well.

“I think he likes you,” said Ilaria, wringing out her hair.

Harland attempted to straighten out his clothes and he grumbled, “Yeah that’s the word for it.”

“Trust me, you would know if he didn’t,” she assured him, kneeling down and opening the backpack. It must have been waterproof, because when she pulled out the contents, they were all dry. She produced a change of clothes, a pair of moccasins made out of a strange leather, a few rations and water bottles, and a small pouch of credits. Lastly, she pulled out a handful of white bone spearheads and a short dagger in a leather sheath.

“I thought you weren’t a fighter?” Ahsoka asked upon seeing the weapons.

“Compared to you I’m sure I’m not,” she said, tucking the sheathed dagger into her right boot and added the rest to her first backpack. “But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of generally knowing how to stab someone.”

Braetis let out a wheezing growl that Ahsoka realized was supposed to mimic a laugh. Great, even the reptiles had a sense of humor.

Still, with the sun setting, bathing the water in orange and pink light while causing the giant trees to cast long shadows, it was hard to be in too much of a bad mood. Harland had sat on the edge of the plank and was watching the sunset, resigned to taking turns itching the yarkiokkajj’s chins while their forked tongues occasionally lapped the air.

Ilaria had left her newly packed backpack on the platform along with her laid out cloak, and was studying the huts around them that used to be her home. Her expression was inscrutable, but a mixture of sadness and peace radiated through the Force around her. Ahsoka figured to some the combination would seem strange, but she understood it. She really did.

“Which one did you live in?” she asked.

Her companion gave her a sideways glanced and then pointed at one of the smaller huts, “That one at the edge. We didn’t need much space.”

“Is there anything you need from there?” Ahsoka figured that she didn’t, but perhaps her friend would like an excuse to look at her home for the last time. She knew that if she would had known the last time she would ever walk around the Temple, she would have walked through every room, etching them into her memory.

“Maybe,” said Ilaria doubtfully. “Do you want to come with?”

Ahsoka informed Harland that they would be back in a few moments, and following Ilaria as she bounded across the roots past the huts, tactfully avoiding the very unstable looking bridges.

They came to a stop on the miniscule porch at the front of the hut, stopping in the open doorframe. Ahsoka stopped, looking at the bridge that used to connect the hut to the others, but was now half strung apart in the water. She knew instantly that it was the same bridge from her vision from the trees, the same one she had seen Ilaria as a youngling playing on.

Ilaria was looking at her curiously, a silent question etched on her features.

“The first night we were here, when I saw you going into the forest, I meditated, and the forest showed me this place,” Ahsoka explained, finding it oddly comforting to be able to mention such things without getting sideways looks. There were some things that only other Force users could truly understand. “They showed me you as a child, playing on that bridge.”

Ilaria let a short laugh. “My mother thought I was crazy when I was little, when I first told her that I could hear the trees speaking to me. It wasn’t until I first met the yarkiokkajj that she believed me. She made me promise that I wouldn’t tell anyone else about it. It’s good to know that I wasn’t completely insane.”

“Not at all,” said Ahsoka, once again admiring the gigantic trees. “The life Force within this place is immense. It’s no wonder that the Jedi didn’t find you.”

A slight frown colored Ilaria’s face. “What do you mean?”

“The forest, the livimmae trees, are so dominating in the Force here, they make it almost impossible to sense anything else,” said Ahsoka. “You are strong with the Force, and I still couldn’t sense you through the trees.”

Her companion considered this, her drying hair turning string-like, and nodded. She gave the bridge one last glance, and stepped into the hut, who’s doorway was the only thing lit by the sunlight.

The difference between Ahsoka’s upbringing and her friend’s struck her forcibly as she looked around the hut that was in hardly a centimeter larger than her old room at the Temple. Two grass hammocks hung from the walls, and a pair of round cushions again woven from grass nested on each side of a table created from a cut livimmae branch so that its rings were visible to be counted. Youngling-like carvings of fish and yarkiokkajj were etched into the wooden floor. Ilaria crouched down and traced her fingers along the thin lines.

Ahsoka suddenly realized the weight of what she was asking Ilaria to do. In Resort Town, it was easy to imagine wanting to leave, but here…well, she found herself thinking of how she had never had a choice when it came to joining the Jedi. It was a decision that had been made for her, for better or for worse. On one hand, she didn’t have the memories of home to hold her back and on the other, she didn’t have them to go back to. How differently would her life had been had she known her family?

With a pang, she thought of Anakin, and how she knew he missed his mother. He never spoke of it, but she saw it sometimes in the sadness that hung over him.

How could she ask Ilaria to leave her beautiful home, everything she had ever known, a paradise that was in many ways her own, for a galaxy poisoned with corruption?

“You don’t have to come with us,” she said quietly. “I understand if you want to stay.”

Ilaria straightened, looking around the hut once more. “This is my home,” she said simply. “It will always be, and it will live in my memories. But it is time to move on.” She turned to face Ahsoka in the doorway, and the sunlight, as if to accentuate her point, caught her eyes and made them glow like golden embers. Stars, her eyes seemed to bore right into Ahsoka, burning through her. Ahsoka vaguely wondered if there would every come a time when she could stop being distracted by Ilaria’s eyes.

“Can you read my thoughts right now?”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that,” Ilaria answered, her impish smile playing on her lips. “But I’m not, if that’s what you’re asking. I suppose I could if I really wanted to, or if you gave me permission, but on the whole I would rather not. Believe me or not, I’m not entirely comfortable reading everyone’s thoughts. Especially people I like.”

Ahsoka wasn’t entirely sure if that was the answer she had been looking for, but she felt the truth in Ilaria’s words, and decided that was enough. If anything, the truth was a rarity in the rein of the Empire. “That’s good to know.”

When they made it back to the platform, Harland was munching on a ration pack. The yarkiokkajj were dozing in the water, their wings were folded, and their long necks curved around so that their heads were tucked under their wings. They glittered brilliant hues of golds and greens in the setting sunlight, their scales throwing spheres of light across the water. On their approach, Braetis lifted his head and let out a cooing noise.

“They really love you,” said Harland, sounding rather amazed by the fact.

His comment made Ilaria smile with a certain softness that Ahsoka had seen her give to nothing else.


	12. Chapter 12

The yarkiokkajj hissed and spit, their scales standing on end like spikey, ruffled loth cats as the freighter lowered onto the mud flat. Despite it not being the kind of mud that swallowed beings whole that was common on Xeroianjj, the heavy weight of the ship caused it’s landing gear to sink rather noticeably. Ilaria had never much found freighters interesting, with them all looking relatively similar to her: large, grey, dirty, boxy, and loud. Not that she would know what type of ship it was beyond behind a freighter, anyway. It was medium sized, with a raised cockpit and forward and aft mounted cannons.

Raté and Lutun rippled with mistrustful growls and hisses as the loading ramp lowered, exposing a waiting rodian and hulking gran. They had their hands on their blasters, and were eyeing the reptiles with unease, the thoughts of shooting not far from their minds. They moved to step off the ramp, and were immediately met with snarls, bared rows of fangs larger than daggers, and lashing tails.

Even Braetis, who was relatively calm compared to the other two, let out a low, rumbling growl and flashed his dangerous teeth.

“I thought you could control them?” Harland questioned, making a point to stand away from the bared fangs.

“They’re not droids to be controlled,” said Ilaria pointedly. “They do have minds of their own.”

Ahsoka called to the ship, “We will come to you! Stay there!” She then addressed Ilaria, “We’ll give you a moment to say goodbye.”

Before heading to the ship, Ahsoka stopped before Braetis and pressed her knuckles together, giving him a deep bow, which he responded to with a slight dip of his head and a long, slow blink. In the Force, Ilaria felt them reach out to each other, although she did not pry to whatever was shared between the two. However, when Ahsoka straightened, her blue eyes shown. She then bowed to Raté and Lutun, Harland following her example, and they headed for the ship.

The yarkiokkajj crowded around Ilaria, forming a loose circle and blocking her view of the loading ramp with their massive, shimmering bodies. Everything was painted orange and yellow in the sunlight, and their scales through brilliant strobes of light across her as they moved.

First Lutun stepped forward, letting out a mournful whine and pressing his hot nose to her forehead. She closed her eyes, and was greeted with a scene under the murky water, where white and yellow rays danced across the mud beds from the uneven surface above, a fluid version of sunlight streaming through clouds.

The image faded, and he stepped back, retreating from the circle.

Raté stepped forward next, looking absolutely lovely in the setting sunlight, and did the same. This time, the image that came to Ilaria’s mind was that of a flock of yarkiokkajj younglings racing through the forest, growling with delight and nipping at each others tails. The memory evaporated, and she stepped back from the circle, leaving only Braetis and Ilaria.

He stood between her and the ship, still blocking the view of the others, and his dark eyes bore into hers. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head to touch his nose to forehead.

The memory was vivid, and it was her own. She was small and pudgy, standing unsteadily on a wooden paddleboard as he swooped down from the forest, landing on the roots before her and studying her with astute curiosity. His hide was precious jewels, and his bowed his head, playfully sniffing her then-white hair.

Someone called her, and she turned to see her mother paddling towards her, her face flushed with shock, her curly bronze hair a mess, still young and beautiful herself. Her mother called her again, and she turned to face Braetis, much younger himself, once more. He gave her a knowing blink and took off, not harming her but touching her soul with the idea of flight.

Ilaria opened her eyes as he removed his snout from her forehead, blowing hot breath across her face. She stepped forward and hugged his gigantic chest like a tree trunk, and he wrapped his neck around her in a final embrace. Only when she had stepped away and wiped the tears from her cheeks did he step aside to reveal the ship and its loading ramp once more. The crowd on the ramp now included a sullustan and a human male, all staring at her.

Braetis gently bumped her back with his nose, edging her towards the ship. _Go_.

And she did. Ilaria walked across the flat, glancing out over the marsh that was painted golden for the last time, and then at the forest that was her home for the last time. She inhaled the sweet scent of the mud and the mingled salt of the water for the last time. When she stepped onto the ramp, the others studied her with something disturbingly like awe, and it was only Ahsoka that seemed unsurprised.

Ilaria turned to look at the yarkiokkajj once more, and waved.

Braetis flared his wings to their full extent, a blanket of thin green flesh glowing as sunlight pressed through, and raised his head in a triumphant roar. He bunched his legs and leapt for the sky, two mighty flaps propelling him impossibly high. Raté and Lutun followed suit, the trio spiraling high until they were black specks in the sky.

No one spoke until they were gone.

The male sullustan stepped forward, offering her a hand. “I’m Captain Nigel. It’s a…an honor to meet you.”

Ilaria took his hand rather abashedly and stammered her way through a similar greeting, finding herself thoroughly overwhelmed by it all. No one had ever been honored to meet her before.

Captain Nigel went to the cockpit, and while the others followed him, they introduced themselves as well. The gran was named At Ton, the rodian Lam, and the human Sal. They all shook her hand and expressed how happy they were to have her on board, and it struck Ilaria that in her years of waiting on people, she had never felt so appreciated in her life.

Eventually, the others wandered off, leaving her and Ahsoka alone in the cargo bay, the latter whom they had greeted with a warm formality.

“That’s one way to make an exit,” Ahsoka said.

Ilaria let out a choked laugh, the reality of it all still not settling on her shoulders. “What else can you expect from someone that lives with giant lizards?”

There was a huge difference between dreaming about flying in the stars, and actually doing it, Ilaria reflected.

There had been too many nights where she had ridden the yarkiokkajj as they soared high above the trees and marshes. It was the most exhilarating, freeing thing she had ever experienced. There was something about the way the wind would tear at her braids, the agile, savage grace that the yarkiokkajj soared through the skies with that made her feel _alive_. The never ending expanse of marsh and forests below her, and the infinite networks of the heavens above. It had given her a sense of longing.

She used to stare up at those moons, the stars, the glittering maze of waterways below, dreaming about somewhere else.

That had all been before the Empire—before The Resort. It had been before her mother was sold away, and her home destroyed. It had been before she spent most of her nights serving drinks to those more fortunate than herself, smiling and pretending that she was happy and content. Thankful, even.

The thought made her sick.

And yet, all those horrible nights and gross men and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness was swept away as she sat in the cockpit, enveloped by the swirls of hyperspace. It was silver and white and black and surprisingly blue, an infinite road to anywhere she could imagine, and a million places that she couldn’t.

“Is this your first time flying?” inquired Captain Nigel from his spot in the pilots seat.

“In a ship,” Ilaria admitted, leaning comfortably against the co-pilots seat. It was just her, Captain Lark, and a red astromech known as J1. The others were who-knows-where, and Ahsoka had to go make a secure transmission, whatever that meant. This was all fine by Ilaria, who resented feeling too much like a lost loth-kitten, following around whoever happened to walk by. And plus, the swirling tunnel of hyperspace was much more interesting to look at than the metal walls of the freighter.

“I’ve been flying for a while now,” said Captain Nigel after a few minutes of silence. “And I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”

His curiosity blossomed in the Force, hardly concealed by his innocent expression and large, dark eyes. She could almost hear the question in his mind: _Is she a Jedi? Is that why Fulcrum brought her along? What happened down there?_

She was tempted to answer them for the sake of not having to hear them out loud, but decided against it. Just because Ahsoka—codename Fulcrum, apparently--knew about her abilities didn’t mean that everyone had to know the extent of them.

“I’m glad I could give you something new to watch, then,” Ilaria answered nonchalantly, her weariness dragging at her voice. Now that she was on the ship, in the relatively comfortable copilots chair, she was aware of how her legs felt numb from the knee down, and how her bones felt as if they were made of rocks. In fact, it was growing harder and harder to keep her eyes open.

Captain Nigel must have sensed that it was better to not press the subject, and so they fell into a lulling silence, the tunnel of hyperspace a visual lullaby.

She was back at the edge of the forest, facing the giant labyrinth of trunks and roots and water that meant a certain end to anyone but her. The water was bluer than she ever remembered, as if it were really the sky playing a trick on her. There was no sound, only the a deafening silence.

 _We must move forward_ , a calm voice echoed beside her.

Ilaria turned to see a woman unlike she had ever seen standing beside her. She wore black robes, her hands hidden as she clasped them together in front of her, and headpiece of the same black cloth. Her skin was a mossy green color, and a tattoo of triangles was etched onto her chin. Her eyes were like fog on water.

Without another word, the mysterious woman stepped forward, her feet landing on top of the water, sending small ripples across the stillness with each step.

Her feet moving on their own accord, Ilaria followed. Her footsteps settled on top of the water as well.

The moved deep into the forest, and a thick mist began to rise from the water. Slowly at first, but before long it was so dense that Ilaria could feel it clinging to her clothes, her skin, her lungs. She struggled to breathe and called for the strange woman to stop, to wait for her, to help her, but the woman kept walking. She didn’t even look back.

Ilaria choked, gasping for air. She fell to her knees and rested her head on the cool surface of the water, closing her eyes, ready for the world to go black. Only, it didn’t, and it began to grow easier to breathe.

She opened her eyes to find her forehead pressed against ice, and pressed against that, staring back at her, was a horrid face. It was a mummy, with features so sunken and distorted she would have been impossible to recognize, if not for the tattoo on her chin and the faded green skin.

Ilaria sat there, unable to look away, stark terror consuming her as she stared into those empty eye sockets. Her hands grew cold, and her breath began to fog the glass as it froze over until it was no longer glass at all, but blue ice.

Shivering, she pushed herself to her feet and found that she was no longer in the forest, but in a tunnel of ice. All around her, smooth, deep, and graceful shades and blue and grey. Ahead, she saw circle white light.

She crept towards the light, rubbing her hands together and pressing them against her face.

Songs. A million songs began to weave their way from the ice, wrapping around her mind and calling her. _Forward. Forward_. Beautiful, serene.

She was halfway down the tunnel when it exploded, sending shattered ice and crystals alike into her skin.

She woke with a start, still in the co-pilots chair. Ahsoka stood over her, a strong hand gripping her shoulder hard. Her white face markings were knit together in concern. Her eyes were not unlike the ice tunnel.

“Ilaria,” she said, giving her shoulder a painful squeeze. “Ilaria, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Ilaria insisted, putting a hand on Ahsoka’s wrist and removing her grip and looking around. It was just the two of them and J1 in the cockpit. She ran a hand over her face, wishing she could scrub the images from her mind.

Ahsoka stood back, crossing her arms and studying Ilaria with a frown. “You had a nightmare.”

Rather taken aback, Ilaria stared at her. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

“No, but I could feel your fear in the Force. Even the others…it’s not important right now.

Ilaria stared at the button and lever covered ceiling and suddenly wished she hadn’t left the secure isolation of Xeroianjj. She had been living alone, or with Else, for so long, she had almost forgotten. “Yeah, sometimes I have these dreams.” Her cheeks felt hot. She never talked about her dreams with anyone, not even her mother. “Just very realistic dreams. When I was younger, the neighbors would always wake up whenever I woke up from my dreams. It took a while for my mother to put two and two together. When she did, we moved to the edge of the village. It got better the older I got, but the past few years…”

A shadow passed over Ahsoka’s countenance, and then her expression softened. “I see. You know, it’s not uncommon for Jedi to have visions. Sometimes they’re of the past, or the future, or even the present.”

Ilaria let out a huff. Of course. The Jedi.

“Unfortunately, I’m rather uneducated on the state of the galaxy,” she said. “Or at least what it was before the rise of the Empire. To be honest, Ahsoka, I don’t even know who the Jedi were except they were people that could do the same things I could, and now they’re dead or close to it.”

She didn’t expect her words to have such a profound effect, but Ahsoka’s gaze switched to her boots, and a wave of sorrow rolled off of her. “I’m not a Jedi.”

“So you said, and neither am I, but why do I feel like if some Imperials knew what either of us could do they would want us dead, or worse?” It was a rhetorical question, one with an edge to it the surprised even Ilaria. Realizing this, she went on, “Look, I’m sorry to snap I just would like to understand where I fit in with all of this.”

Ahsoka continued to stare at her boots for a few moments before lifting her gaze to address Ilaria, “I’m not saying I can tell you what your place is in the larger galaxy, but I can teach you about why it is the way it is, and why you’re a target in it. I can teach you what I know, and from there you will have to find your own place.” And then, as an afterthought, “That’s all we can ever do.”

That answered satisfied Ilaria, and she nodded. “Thank you. I just want to learn.”

The _Sunrise_ came out of hyperspace, and Ilaria was in the cockpit watching the approach, leaving Ahsoka some time to think. She very much felt like leaving Xeroianjj was leaving a dream and coming back to cold reality. Her skin still prickled from the sheer horror that had rolled through the Force when Ilaria had been having her nightmare. She was relieved that she had already informed Bail of her intention to take responsibility for Ilaria, but beyond that, she still wasn’t sure.

What did she mean by responsibility?

It wasn’t like she was taking on a young padawan. Ilaria was a woman close to her own age, proficient in the Force in her own ways. Ahsoka had already offered to teach her how to use a lightsaber and now to inform her on the galaxy’s current political climate, but how much farther should she go?

There was also the problem of her dreams. Ahsoka hadn’t mentioned it earlier, but she had not been the only one to feel the effect of Ilaria’s unconscious mind. She had seen it in the others on the ship as well, in the way they had suddenly checked their blasters, glanced over the shoulders. She doubted they even consciously recognized the thrill of fear that ran through them, or the cause of it. Either way, it could be problem. It was one thing if Ilaria’s dreams woke up Ahsoka, but everyone else in the hangar? She had heard of sleeping pills before, and wondered if they would help. She made a mental note to ask Bail about getting some.

However, if they could surpass all of that, Ahsoka could already imagine how much of an asset Ilaria could be to their cause, especially if she continued to strengthen in her skills.

Was that why the Force had led their paths together? Was that why Ahsoka had felt so drawn to her?

 _No_ , thought Ahsoka, certain that Ilaria was not meant to just be another Rebel solider. _There must be something more that I do not see_. And yet, her mind came up blank. She came to the conclusion that she was trying too hard to understand the Force.

Ilaria had been placed in her path, that much was clear. It was clear that Ilaria was destined to build a lightsaber, and she wanted to learn more about the galaxy around her. Her prowess within the Force for someone with no formal training was startling, but the effect of her dreams was enough evidence that she still needed to learn control. And her dreams…well, Ahsoka had a strong suspicion that they were much more than just dreams.

“We’re ten standard minutes from the coordinates,” said Harland, sitting down across from Ahsoka. His curly hair was a mess, and dark circles were etched under his eyes. “It’ll be good to be back in my own bed.”

“That it will,” Ahsoka agreed. “You deserve some rest.”

“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s been a weird mission.”

The thought made Ahsoka want to smile. It had been a weird mission, and when was the last time she had one of those? In the light of the rebellion and the Empire, the plain weird she used to experience all the time had already begun to fade into drone of boots, blasters, and dust.

“What’s on your mind, Harland?” she asked him, sensing that he wanted to say more.

He averted his eyes and continued to rub his neck. “I don’t want to seem out of line.”

“Go ahead, speak your mind.”

Again, his eyes darted around to make sure they were alone. “It’s just…isn’t it a risk to bring Ilaria into the rebellion like this? We don’t know anything about her; besides that she’s been playing us from the day we met her, and isn’t it awfully convenient that she just showed up?”

 _Beggars can’t be choosers_ , was Ahsoka’s initial dry thought. The rebellion could not always be picky about the motives of those that went against the Empire—it was hard enough to find people to stand up against them without conducting an interview process. Still, she understood his worry, perhaps better than anyone. After all, as the head of intelligence, wasn’t she who knew better than anyone just how easily people could be turned against those she served? Wasn’t she the one directly responsible for the risk bringing Ilaria along undoubtedly brought?

“Few things are gained without taking risks,” she said, choosing her words with care. “And few risks are taken without hope in mind. Our reality is that we are the few taking on the many. Everything we do is imbued with risk, but also with hope. You have Rebel friends. Did you know everything about them when you first decided to trust them?”

Harland shook his head, dropping his hands into his lap. “No.”

“Trust is a risk we take, and we give it with hope.”

He nodded and sighed. “I guess I…I don’t know.” He rubbed his hands together, and his deep brown eyes flicked up to meet Ahsoka’s. “You trust her.”

“I do.”

“Then that’s good enough for me.” He stood and made his way for the cargo hold.

“Harland,” Ahsoka called after him, causing him to pause and turn. “Thank you for trusting me.”

He smiled. “I could say the same thing, ma’am.” He gave her a small salute, and disappeared.

Ahsoka watched him go, and decided to go to the cockpit to watch their descent.

Captain Nigel was in his usual spot, the pilots chair, and Lam sat in the copilot chair. Ilaria stood behind them, arms crossed as they approached the white planet. Funny, how it was normally only Force users that opted to stand without aid during landing sequences. She acknowledged Ahsoka with a slight nod.

“So,” she began, “We’re still in the Outer Rim, right?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answered. “This planet is called Crait. It’s a salt planet that is uninhabited by any sentient species.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We’ve established a small outpost in the mountains,” Ahsoka continued. “It’s mostly used to hold store supplies. And most of those are redistributed for planets that have been devastated by the Empire.”

They flew right into the mountain hangar, and so when the loading ramp was lowered, they walked out to witness the yawning mouth of the tunnel and beyond that, the endless white expanse of salt that covered the red dirt beneath. As they exited the ship, Ilaria’s eyes hung on the landscape outside the yawning mouth of the hangar, her hope and excitement radiating through the Force around her. Her expression gave away none of it. She looked disinterested, even.

The hangar was fairly heavily occupied, considering the base was still under construction. Supply crates were stacked just about everywhere, creating a lattice beyond the landing zone. There was a handful of ships parked in the hangar, a squadron of X-wings and freighters, including Ahsoka’s own ship. She also spotted Bail Organa’s _Tantive IV_. She wasn’t surprised to see that it was still there. He had tried to hide it, but when she told him about Ilaria on her secure transmission from the Sunrise, she could see his excitement about the possibility of another Force-user ally. It wasn’t shocking that he wanted to meet her in person.

“The caves,” said Ilaria, nodding to the tunnels at the back of the hangar. “What lives in there?”

“Vulptices,” said Ahsoka. “You can sense them?”

Ilaria nodded, her eyes constantly moving as she took in the base, and sometimes lingering on the Rebels that passed them. Everyone glanced at her, and a few followed her with curious gazes. The farther into the hangar they ventured, the more passive Ilaria’s face went until it was an unfathomable mask. Even with the Force, Ahsoka couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She might as well had been trying to use rocks as windows.

Ahead, there was an array of screens and consoles where a few figures milled. And among those figures, Ahsoka recognized the tall sight of Senator Organa. He recognized her a moment after she saw him, and quickly quieted his peers as they approached. They all dispersed, leaving only Bail.

“Ahsoka, Harland,” Bail greeted them with a bow of his head. He then turned to Ilaria, giving her a kind smile. “And you must be Ilaria. My name is Bail Organa. Ahsoka has told me that you were extremely helpful on their mission to Xeroianjj. You have my personal thanks.”

The entire time he spoke, Ilaria was still as a statue, her eyes so dark that they matched the mountain stone. When he finished, she gave him a stiff nod in return. “Anyone would have done it.”

Bail’s smile turned a little sad, a little serious. “No, not just anyone.”

Ilaria’s cheeks took on a pink tinge, and she averted her eyes. “Thank you.”

The Senator’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer, and then he turned his attention back to Ahsoka. “I believe you told me everything that I must know from your earlier communication. Perhaps you can use this time to show Ilaria around.” His eyes flashed to Harland. “And you, young man, look like you need to get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Harland agreed wearily, wasting not a moment heading off for the bunks.

“That’s a great idea, Senator,” Ahsoka agreed. “Thank you.”

They had hardly made it a few steps away from Bail before he was once against swarmed with an array of techs and information alike.

“He runs everything?” Ilaria asked when they were a safe distance away.

“Him and a few others,” said Ahsoka, leading the way towards her ship. “Before I show you around, we can go by my ship and you can set down your things. It’s a small freighter, but it was designed for two people anyways.”

“You live alone?”

“No one else stays on my ship,” said Ahsoka, unreasonably struck by the question. She had always thought of her ship as simply the place where slept and stored her things, not necessarily where she lived, not necessarily _home_. It was a small nuance.


	13. Chapter 13

The ship was small, and everything felt squished together as they headed up the loading ramp. Majority of the ship’s interior was devoted to a then-empty cargo hold, which was connected to the cockpit by a small hall. On one side of the hall a refresher, storage pantries, and a mini booth and table that was so ridiculously pressed together that if two people sat at it at the same time, they would be lucky if their knees didn’t rub together. The other side of the hall was occupied by a door that led to a bedroom consisting of two bunks that jutted out of the wall and a few drawers for storage. The room hardly looked occupied, and it was only by the slight misalignment of the pillow on that bottom bunk that Ilaria could tell it was slept in at all.

 _Does she not sleep with a blanket?_ Ilaria thought with amazement. _That’s just criminal_. She found herself wishing that she had grabbed the thin blanket from her hut. “I take it the top bunk is mine?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t want to steal your bunk, now.”

That made Ahsoka laugh. “It’s just a bunk.”

“If you say so,” said Ilaria, tossing her backpack up on top of the upper mattress, knowing it wasn’t Ahsoka’s bunk. She could get her stuff situated later. Her mind was already on the tour of the base and more importantly, outside. Mountains. She was under a mountain, surrounded by more rock than she had ever seen in her life. “Would it be alright if we started this tour outside?”

The air was frigid and dry compared to Xeroianjj, but Ilaria hardly cared as her eyes feasted on the great white landscape around her. And the mountain—the mountain! It was the biggest thing she had ever seen.

She stepped out onto the slick, crunchy salt, and bent down, running her fingers across the surface, leaving streaks of deep red. Curious, she stood and ran a few steps, making a point to slide to a stop. She turned around and was rewarded with the red streaks her sliding stop had etched into the salt, and beyond that, her red footprints and a smiling Ahsoka.

“You’re laughing at me,” Ilaria called, already feeling more at home outside, away from the prying eyes of everyone within the hangar.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted. Her hood was around her shoulders, and Ilaria thought that she would have made quite the picturesque painting in that moment.

“Come on, you must have tried mud sliding before.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms. “Mud sliding?”

“Yes, mud sliding,” Ilaria repeated, walking back to join her. “Let me teach you about the art of mud sliding. So, there are many theories on the proper way to mud slide—some say on a disk, on your belly, on a board, or on your feet—it’s a big topic of debate, really. Anyways, you find a mud flat,” she paused and gestured at the smooth expanse of salt before them, “or in this case, a salt flat. You then run and get as much speed as you can, and then you see how far you can slide.”

“That’s…interesting.”

“Interesting and stupid and fun,” said Ilaria. “So, are you ready to try?”

Ahsoka hesitated, and then gave Ilaria a small smile, waving her hand in front of her, “You first.”

“I already went first.”

“I thought that was a practice run?”

“Fine, we will make that my practice run.”

Ilaria took a half step away from Ahsoka, putting herself on a clean track of salt. She started off slowly, but quickly moved into long, loping steps, treading carefully so she wouldn’t slip. The salt was slick, but hardly slicker than the mud she was used to. She went maybe fifteen long strides and then leapt, landing with her feet slightly offset from each other and sliding a good nine meters or so, leaving a scarlet trail.

She stopped and turned, making a show of an elaborate bow. “You’re turn!”

Ahsoka aligned herself alongside Ilaria’s path, and started to run. She must have been near perfect at judging distances, because she jumped off at the exact same point Ilaria had. She landed gracefully, and slid a whole two meters past Ilaria before coming to a stop and executing her own bow. She was laughing in full, now, exposing the sharp canines off to the sides of her mouth.

“Impressive,” said Ilaria, admiring the streak of red Ahsoka’s path had left. “You’re a natural.”

They set off at a walk again, following the outline of the mountain.

“Was that a game you played when you were a child?” Ahsoka inquired.

Ilaria affirmed that it was. “When you grow up on a planet with nothing except grass, mud, and impossible trees, you tend to get creative with how you have fun. The kids from our colony would have mini mud sliding tournaments every ten rotations.”

Her companion’s expression turned wistful, and Ilaria felt the mingled sadness and fondness swirling around her. In fact, she could almost see…no. She refused to invade Ahsoka’s thoughts like that. If she wanted to share, she would.

“That sounds like it was fun,” was all she said.

“It was,” said Ilaria, turning her gaze to the mountain beside them. She stopped and studied its surface, all too aware of the many handholds the rocks offered and the energy lighting up her steps. “I’ve never climbed a mountain.”

Ahsoka gave her an impish smile. “Let’s change that.” She took a few running steps, and then leapt impossibly high, landing on a rocky bank on the side of the mountain. Well, it wasn’t impossible if you used the Force.

Ilaria took her own running start, letting the energy of the Force rush through her. As she soared through the air, the Force at her fingertips, she felt like she was flying once again.

The exertion of the climb didn’t leave much time for talking, which suited Ilaria fine. Especially when they reached the top of the mountain, where the frigid air cut right through her cloak and did its best to tug her hair out of her braid. When she finally climbed up the last bit of rock and turned to see the landscape before them, she was swept breathless.

Before her, the endless white expanse seemed to stretch on forever, only occasionally broken by a streak of red or bulbs grey. The mountain edge they stood on extended like wings, and the wind occasionally pushed her forward, threatening to make her soar over the edge. She felt the Force all around her, and she could sense the life around her. Below, she could feel the teeming bodies in the hangar, and deeper, the small racing forms of the vulptices nested.

“You know,” she said to Ahsoka, who was similarly admiring the landscape, “I’m on a completely different planet, and it still doesn’t feel very different from home.”

The wind pulled gently at Ahsoka’s lekku, and her eyes shown beautifully deep blue in contrast to the bright landscape, so glittering and deep that Ilaria wondered if that was what oceans looked like.

“I understand.”

They sat on top of the mountain as the sun began to set, and Ahsoka tried to remember the last time she had done something simply for the sake of having fun, or enjoying the view. It was always the next mission, the next meeting, the next plan. Fun was just a luxury that she didn’t have.

 _Or maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve looked for it_ , she thought.

She had always been in war, had been raised by war. Sure, they had fun sometimes, especially with the clones and Anakin and Obi-Wan, but upon reflection, she found that the jokes and jabs were more for the sake of their sanity than anything else. You had to laugh when most of your life consisted of being shot at.

“So, what now?” prompted Ilaria, who was laid back and gazing up at the sky, using a smooth rock as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket. Her cheeks were flushed, her nose and ears tinged red from the cold.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” said Ahsoka.

“I hate being specific,” Ilaria groaned, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the air. She caught it and clutched it in her fist. “What’s the plan? I know you must be busy with missions and stuff. How are you going to have time to deal with me?”

 _Deal with me_. As if she was a burden—some laundry that needed to be done or trash that needed to be disposed of.

“The Jedi used to take on padawans,” said Ahsoka slowly. “The problem is, I’m not a Jedi, and you’re a little old to be a padawan.” It occurred to her that she didn’t know how old Ilaria was.

Ilaria laughed. “It’s nice to know that I’m considered old at the ripe age of twenty-one standard years.”

“In that case I’m old too.”

“How old?”

“I’m twenty-two standard years,” said Ahsoka, her own youth strange to point out. She felt so much older.

“Geez, might as well start digging a hole. Or building a pyre. Whichever you prefer.”

“Ilaria!” cried Ahsoka, picking up a handful of white salt and tossing it at her companion, who merely laughed. In an analogous way, she felt like they were once again sitting on that dock at Tarik, or having drinks with the other service staff after a particularly long shift.

“Anyways,” Ilaria said, brushing away the salt from her cloak without getting up,“We’re both old.”

“My point being,” Ahsoka pressed on, “Is that the padawans were the Jedi’s apprentices. They went where their masters went, did what their masters did, and learned by experience.”

Ilaria craned her head to look at Ahsoka, a delicate eyebrow raised incredulously. “I’m not calling you ‘Master.’”

“And I’m not asking you to,” said Ahsoka quickly. “What I’m saying is that the principle still works. You can come on missions with me, and I’ll teach you what I know.”

“And what will my code name be? Swamp Rat?” She scraped up another handful of salt without looking and lazily tossed it at Ahsoka. “Salt?”

Ahsoka laughed. “If you want it to be.”

Ilaria wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I want to pick my own code name.”

“Why not?”

“That’s too much power,” she sighed dramatically, shifting her tone as if she was some wistful little girl making the hardest decision of her life. Then she let out a snort and smiled. “Maybe I’ll go with Swamp Rat. My own personal twist to ‘Womp Rat.’ Stay true to my roots, you know?”

It was ridiculous and perfectly ironic, considering how beautiful she was. Who would think anyone by the code name of Swamp Rat could also pass as royalty?

“That’s a good name.”

“Thanks, I try.”

They sat in silence for a little while. Crait rotated slowly on its axis, and so the small primary sun took its time setting, stretching far over the horizon and giving everything a slight yellow sheen. The shadows of the mountains in the distance grew longer, as if a blanket was being draped over the landscape.

Ahsoka found herself thinking of Commander Zielinski, and how he had been ready to give up everything for Ilaria. She said simply, for the fact that it was, “He—Zielinski-- loved you.”

Her companion took her time to reply, and only did after letting out a long sigh. “Yes, he did.”

“I followed you that night,” confessed Ahsoka. “When he asked you to marry him.”

Ilaria’s voice was small, “Oh.”

Now Ahsoka was approaching the question she really wanted to ask, “Were you going to?”

The quiet that followed her question was a thoughtful one, and Ilaria palmed the smooth stone in her hand the entire time. “No,” she said at last. “My life at The Resort and Resort Town…I despised it. The only thing I really loved about it was the forest and the memories and the yarkiokkajj. He offered to take me away from it all. In a way, it was tempting.” She let out an ironic snort. “This will sound like a lie coming from me, but I really don’t like to play with people’s emotions like that. He seemed to be a good man when it came down to it, but I could never marry someone that I don’t love, no matter what they offer me. That would have just been trading out one set of metaphorical shackles for another.

“Plus, he didn’t really love me for _me,_ did he? He loved what he saw, the polite young woman who always smiled when he made a joke, and never stepped a foot out of line.”

She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them, tilting her head to study Ahsoka. Stray strands of hair fell across her face. The way the light hit her eyes, they shimmered gold and green more-so than grey, as if to prove the forest could never really leave her. “Why?”

Ahsoka was suddenly conscious of how close they sat to each other. “I’m just trying to figure out what kind of person you are.”

“A weird one,” said Ilaria with another dramatic sigh. “That’s the only consistent answer I’ve ever gotten.”


	14. Chapter 14

Ilaria found herself seated cross-legged on the floor of the bunk room, Ahsoka mirroring her, and between the two of them was an assemblage of parts that just appeared to be a bunch of chunks of metal, and of course, her kyber crystal. Ahsoka was pointing at different pieces of metal, talking about casings, power cells, energy gates, emitter matrixes, and so on. Ilaria did her best to listen and comprehend, but the moment after Ahsoka said the name of a piece, she was already forgetting it. She said everything like it was a given, of course that little piece of metal was the high energy flux aperture, which did…  


“Pause,” Ilaria said at last, putting her hands up in the air. “I’m going to be honest. I know next to nothing about technology, seriously. I have no idea what a power cell actually is. Don’t get me wrong, I know that like, that it’s a device that gives power, but I don’t actually know how it works.”  


Ahsoka stared at her for a second. “Right—you grew up without technology.” She stroked her chin in thought, a slight frown on her dark lips, and then her expression cleared. She restarted her lesson, this time not only naming each component, but what it did and how it worked. When she was finished pointing out the assortment of parts, she then pulled one of her own lightsabers from the clips on her belt. She then disassembled the lightsaber, once again naming each part as she removed it, exposing the white kyber crystal core, and set all of the parts in front of Ilaria. “Reassemble it.”   


It was much easier to understand how everything worked, once she had seen the whole, and Ilaria was able to reassemble the lightsaber in a reasonable amount of time, with the occasional pointers from Ahsoka. Before she put the kyber crystal back into its chamber, she held it in her hand and studied it’s edges. It was surprisingly smooth, and it’s song was different from her own. This one’s was softer, sadder, but pure. Aware of Ahsoka watching her, she placed it in the chamber and finished the reassembly, handing it over for inspection.  


“Very good,” said Ahsoka, clipping it back onto her belt. She stood, and motioned to the pieces laid before her. They no longer seemed quite so foreign to Ilaria. “I will give you some time to assemble your lightsaber. Take your time, and see what feels right.”  


She left, and Ilaria stared at the pieces of metal. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began. The first thing she decided was that she didn’t like how Ahsoka’s outer casings were flat, so she picked a circular one that was made of durasteel. And so, she went on. Power cell, for turning it on and off. And then the field conductor, causing the energy to be parallel with the vortex ring (or something like that)…and so on and on. Sometimes, Ilaria would have to pause, and close her eyes to meditate to figure out where a certain component would go (and, admittedly, sometimes she would just jam it into certain places until it stuck). When she finally had the hilt assembled, she took it apart and restarted the process all over again.  


She repeated this process of assembling, disassembling, and reassembling the hilt until she was sure that she had the thing memorized. As a final test, she swept all of the unused parts aside and disassembled her hilt once more. She laid out the parts for her hilt in front of her, and closed her eyes, reaching out to the Force. Concentrating, she imagined the hilt, every piece, every wire, and in her mind’s eye, assembled it. When she opened her eyes, the hilt was before her, one completed unit.  


Thrilled, and her stomach rumbling, she grabbed the hilt and stood, her stiff joints complaining. She exited the bunk room, and was surprised to find Ahsoka waiting at the little booth that served as the common area, two plates of food in front of her.  


“I thought you might be hungry,” she said.  


“Starving,” said Ilari, taking the seat opposite of her and inspecting the plate. There was some sort of flatbread she had never seen before, corn, and kibla greens. She handed her finished lightsaber over to Ahsoka to inspect, and dug into her food, piling the vegetables onto the flatbread and munching with contentment.  


Ahsoka took apart the casing, examined the interior components of the hilt, her white over-eye markings knit together in concentration, and put the outer casing back together. “No grips?”  


“I didn’t see any I liked in there,” said Ilaria. “I was thinking I might find some leather for it.”  


“That could work,” said Ahsoka, handing the hilt back to Ilaria. “It looks good. Have you checked it yet?”  


“Checked it?”  


She smiled. “To see what color it is.”  


“No,” said Ilaria, pushing her already empty plate aside and rolling the hilt around her palm. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to blow up in my face or something.” But now, there was no excuse. Standing, she made sure there was plenty of room, and she hit the button on the hilt. The blade extended in an instant, humming dangerously, and it was the brightest blue, like the sky on a clear, sunny day. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she knew that it felt right.

The weeks began to blend together. Ilaria’s days turned into a blur of training—more than she had ever thought possible. She was thrown into a wide curriculum of almost non-stop training. The hand-to-hand training took place in the designed gym area off to the corner of the hangar, and she quickly learned the lesson of humility as Ahsoka consistently threw her in the dirt in front of curious onlookers. (Once, she even caught them taking bets on how long it would take for her to get pummeled.) For lightsaber training, they used whatever empty space they could find where they could wield the sabers without slicing unsuspecting cargo (or people) in half. On a supply trip to a nearby populated system, Ilaria had purchased some tanned leather to use as a grip for her lightsaber, and so the blade was completed.  


Some of her favorite training was the flight training. She felt at home, soaring high above the planet’s surface, weaving around the mountains, and diving into the deep canyons with small streams of red-washed water at the bottom. The little fighter ships were her favorite, and once she figured out the controls, there wasn’t much difference between the yarkiokkajj and the fighters. She would never forget the thrill she felt when she made her first jump to hyperspace. Some nights, she would lay up at night, staring at the ceiling and letting the sensation run through her again. It helped her forget her bruises and sore muscles (courtesy of combat training).  


When she wasn’t meditating or training, Ilaria either spent her time hiking and exploring the planet (sometimes accompanied by Ahsoka) or nestled in her bunk, watching holovids, and learning as much about the extended galaxy as she could. The more she learned, the more she realized she didn’t know.  


One morning, while Ahsoka was off meditating, Ilaria decided to go for a hike in the mountains. Wearing her new clothes that included some lightweight armor, such as greaves to protect her shins and vambraces to protect her forearms, all painted the same grey as her cloak, she exited the hangar and, sensing Ahsoka to be up in the mountains somewhere to the left, followed the mountain to the right.  


She took her time, climbing the mountain at a diagonal. Roughly forty minutes into her climb, the Vulptices began to join her, a handful of the crystalline creatures trotting alongside her. She didn’t know why they followed her, but she didn’t complain. In fact, she quite enjoyed their company. It reminded her of being with the yarkiokkajj flock.  


“Hello, little ones,” she greeted them in a sing-song voice, reaching out to them with the Force as well. She knew better than to try petting them. Their coats were as sharp as glass.  


She and her companions headed for the top of the mountain, from where they followed the ridge with no real destination. Most of the grey boulders had been weathered smooth by the wind.  


Time trickled by, and Ilaria let it go without much thought. The air felt crisp and refreshing to her lungs. She stopped in a particularly sunny spot to eat her ration-pack lunch and drink some water, leaning back against a boulder. The view of the landscape below made up for the bland flavor of the ration pack. The vulptices gathered around, some lying down to doze and others eyeing her food.  


“Trust me, you won’t like this,” she assured them.  


In response, their ears swiveled behind them. At first, she thought they were just pouting, except the ones napping also perked up, their heads cocked sideways as they stared intently at the boulder she leaned against. She turned around to look with them, and was surprised when a moment later, a new vulptice peeked it’s head around the backside of the boulder. It looked at her and let out a high pitched whine.  


One of the other vulptices yipped in reply.  


Ilaria reached out to the new one with the Force, doing her best to exude friendship. The newcomer stared at her with it’s deep black eyes, titled it’s head sideways, and let out another long whine. Except, this one was accompanied by a slash of pain and anxiety through the Force. In her mind’s eye, she saw a heaving white shadow, and a rocky floor pooled with ink. Not ink. Blood.  


The newcomer turned around, and disappeared behind the boulder. Ilaria followed, and saw its tail vanishing into a dark crevice behind the rock. Reaching out with the Force, Ilaria realized the crevice was much larger: a tunnel, its entrance mostly obscured by the boulder she was resting against.  


She stepped back. “Watch out,” she instructed the other vulptices, who quickly scattered when they realized her intentions.  


Concentrating, she held out her hands and felt the Force around the boulder. She lifted her arms, and the boulder lifted as well. She moved it to the side, exposing enough of the tunnel for her to fit in, and set it back down gently.  


She activated her lightsaber, using the light to illuminate the darkness, and found herself standing in the entrance of a small tunnel that sloped downwards. The newcomer was waiting for her, his coat sparkling in the blue light of her weapon. He whipped, and turned, racing down the tunnel.  


“Wait!” cried Ilaria, sheathing her lightsaber and scrambling after the creature. She used the Force as her guide through the tunnels more than anything, keeping a mental string attached to her leader. Occasionally, she would catch a glimpse of his ghostly body before he was once again consumed by the darkness. Her hiking companions followed at her heels, their coats rustling like jewelry in the darkness.  


Eventually, when they were deep into the mountain, the air began to change, growing into a more lived-in, primal scent. She was entering a nest. Sure enough, they began to pass small tunnels that echoed with whimpers and the thick scent of milk.  
The newcomer led them to one such tunnel, that was so minuscule Ilaria had to get on her belly and crawl through it to follow him. The other vulptices held back at the entrance. The tunnel reeked of blood. She eventually emerged into a tiny cave with barely enough room for her to sit up in. And when she managed to a sitting position, she had to hunch over. The darkness was numbing, and even with their white coats, it was impossible to make out the creatures before her. The Force was her eyes.  


The newcomer whimpered, gently licking the face of the female vulptice that lie heaving on the floor in a pool of blood. Ilaria could feel her exhaustion, the pain ebbing from her body and giving way to numbness. She was not long for the world. No amount of healing would save her. Pulled against the dying vulptice’s body was three tiny pups, crying and sightless to the world as they waited for their mother’s tongue, which would never come.  


Ilaria tentatively reached out, running her fingertips over their smooth, bald skin. They were covered with warm, sticky blood that was already beginning to dry and flake.  


“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, carefully stroking the mother’s snout, where her coat was less likely to cut. She reached out to the poor creature, pouring images of warm rocks and sunlight into her as her life Force ebbed. She gave the mother all the beautiful images she could remember from her hikes, until at last her breathing slowed and stopped.  


The newcomer let out a long, baleful whine. He gave the mother one final lick, and then moved to the pups, furiously grooming the blood from their smooth skin. Then, he picked each up and gently set them in Ilaria’s lap.  


“I see,” she whispered, running her hands over their already-cooling bodies. Hot tears dripped down her cheeks. “They’ll be safe with me.”  


Ilaria bid the dead mother her respects, and moving with extreme care, took the puppies in her arms and crawled back to the main cave. The newcomer stayed behind with his mate.  


The number of creatures waiting at the end of the tunnel had multiplied. When Ilaria emerged, she was surrounded by a waterfall of crystal coats and sorrowful whines. “The surface,” she said, sending them the mental image of where she had eaten her lunch. “Can you show me pack up to the surface?”  


There was a series of yips, and the pack led the way back through the tunnels. When Ilaria finally emerged in the blinding sunlight, it was well past midday. Her precious cargo had grown whimpering and still. In the light, she could see them for what they really were. They were small balls of flesh, with stubby legs and tails. Their ears and eyes were glued shut, and their skin was mottled with dried and cracking blood.  


Ilaria took of her cloak and wrapped the pups up in the warm cloth, holding the bundle close against her chest. The cold mountain air sent goosebumps racing across her arms, but she didn’t care.  


The sun was beginning to set when she arrived back at the hangar entrance. An anxious Ahsoka ran to meet her, hands on her lightsaber hilts. “Ilaria, what happened?” she demanded, her forehead creased with worry as her eyes scanned Ilaria’s form, looking for injuries. “The blood…”  


“Is not mine,” Ilaria assured her, well aware of the weariness dragging at her feet and the crusted blood coating her hands and pants. “There was a vulptice—it’s a long story.” Instead of trying to explain, Ilaria carefully unwrapped her cloak to expose the precious trio of vulptice pups. “Their mother died giving birth,” she explained. “Her mate led me to them…I told him that I would take care of them.”  


Ahsoka peered at the pups, bringing a hand up to feel them. “I see. We will need to warm them up and find some milk for them.”  


When the entered the hangar, Harland was the first to approach them, his bushy eyebrows knit together in worry as he took in Ilaria’s s disheveled appearance. “What happened? Are you okay?”  


“I’m fine,” said Ilaria, showing him her precious cargo. “But, I’ve got some new rebels that need to be taken care of right away.” At her words, everyone in the vicinity crowded around to catch a glimpse of their newest recruits.


	15. Chapter 15

Wrea was a deep blue with small scattered landmasses that seemed to unnaturally jut out of the uniform azure. Ilaria reflected that she may have found the place more enjoyable to explore if it weren’t for the location. In the Outer Rim, it was near Smugglers Run, and thus despite it’s small amount of terrestrial mass, it saw its share of traffic.

The islands that freckled that planet were mostly cliff-faced, and it was on one such island where Ilaria and Ahsoka hid in the foliage and waited. The cliff rocks were a shocking, deep violet color, and the foliage a bright green that was irrevocably alive. Thankfully, the weather was temperate, and the hard breeze from the ocean more refreshing than frigid. However, it resulted in the constant rustling of leaves and crashing of distant waves that made it hard to hear.

“So, all you know is that there’s a weapons shipment going on,” said Ilaria, scanning the dense fauna with her electrobinoculars, and only seeing more leaves and purple rocks. It was a rather large island, and their view was interrupted by a steep rock face. “And that we’re going to try to steal it.”

Beside her, Ahsoka crouched, the hood of her brown cloak billowing in the wind. Her montrals kept it securely on her head, something which Ilaria envied and she constantly had to pull hers back down. Her friend stared through her own electrobinoculars, a slight frown on her dark lips. “And?”

Ilaria returned her gaze to the enhanced vision of her electrobinoculars, scanning the island horizon with care. The scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face was pressed against her skin by the wind. “And all I’m saying is…” she paused, something catching her eye. A small, black fleck that could have easily been the shadow of a rock. Except… “There—half a click to the right. Something...”

The black fleck vanished, seemingly melting into the purple rocks.

“Did you see it?”

Ahsoka frowned, squinting through the electrobinoculars. “Yes. That must be where the trade is taking place.”

“Great,” muttered Ilaria. The rocks where the black figure had been were almost ten klicks away through dense foliage.

“Better get moving then,” said Ahsoka grimly, already making her way down the slight hill they had been scoping from.

Once again readjusting the hood of her cloak, Ilaria let out a sigh and followed.

As if the island couldn’t be more unwelcoming, many of the native plants had thorn-sharp leaves, and actual thorns. There was no real trees—just pin-prick bushes almost twice Ilaria’s height, with branches that seemed more than determined to peel her cloak and her skin away from her. By the time they made it to the rocks, Ilaria was covered in thin, red, slightly-raised scratches, and doing her best to stifle her irritation. Using another convenient violet rock as cover, Ilaria and Ahsoka studied the rock face once more.

“I see it,” said Ahsoka, her sharper vision coming for the win. “It looks like there’s a tunnel entrance. But I don’t see a ship…”

“Could be on the other side of those rocks,” said Ilaria, motioning to the rigid spine of chipped purple behind the alleged tunnel entrance.

Ahsoka nodded in agreement, ducking back behind the rock and stroking her chin in thought. “This raises a problem.”

“We can’t tell how many of them there is, who they are, where they are, or a sky full of other things.”

“So, you know what that means,” Ahsoka said with a wry smile.

Ilaria immediately decided that she was going to regret the mission. “Let me guess…we need to lure them out.”

Not much later, Ilaria found herself crouched in the bushes across from the tunnel entrance, which was partially hidden by a pile of rocks. She cast her senses out as far as she could, reaching out with the Force. She felt Ahsoka, hidden off to the left of the entrance, and the bushes and…well, the wind was incredibly distracting, with the way it constantly tugged at her cloak and her braided hair. The bushes an annoyance as they pricked her skin like insect bites. She sensed _something_ within the tunnels, but it was beyond her at the moment to sense anything beyond the obvious.

Seriously second-guessing her life choices, Ilaria stepped out from behind her cover, keeping on hand on the blaster strapped to her waist, Ahsoka’s words ringing in her ears: _Use your lightsaber only if necessary. We want to draw as little attention as possible._

Again, she was seriously second guessing her life choices. The blaster felt light and insubstantial on her belt in comparison to the sturdy hilt of her lightsaber. “I’m here to bargain!” she called, her voice seeming high and watery compared to the wind.

She briefly wondered if the tunnel inhabitants had even heard her, but surely they must have had surveillance. Or at least that was the plan. It was a trap and she was the bait. Or so she hoped.

She wasn’t left to wonder long, because a gaggle of armed deviants came rolling out of the tunnel to meet her, blasters pointed. She could feel their adrenaline, and it took a great deal of self-control to not let it rub onto herself. Most of them wore black, and some even wore a sigil that sent a deep feeling of regret through her.

 _Oh, stang_ , she thought.

One figure stepped forward, a long-snouted Kubaz that wore a black mask with orange goggles that only accentuated his small trunk. His accent was strange, but he spoke in Basic, “You are foolish to come here."

“Foolishness is a matter of perspective,” she said casually, briefly wondering when Ahsoka would make her debut. “I have come with a weapon that you cannot refuse.”

It was impossible to read the Kubaz’s expression, but she felt his interest spike.

“And what would that be?” Ah yes, the Black Sun was always interested in more weapons.

Slowly, Ilaria unclipped her lightsaber and withdrew it for him to see. “I have a genuine lightsaber,” she said proudly, and to accentuate her point, activated the rod of electric blue energy, “That I would be willing to part with.”

There were the chinks of plastoid and blasters as the pirates aimed, but the Kubaz held them off with a wave.

“And what keeps us from shooting you now and taking it from your corpse?”

 _What an excellent question_ , Ilaria thought ruefully, quickly followed by, _where the kriff is Ahsoka?_

Sometimes, Ilaria felt like the universe conspired to slap her in the face, as if to remind her to second guess her own thoughts. And there, on that island, surrounded by pirates with their blasters ready, was one of those slaps.

A blaster bolt rang out, streaking right past her face and melting the Kubaz’s mask. He dropped like deadweight and she ducked as the bolts began to fire, whirling her lightsaber to deflect the flurry that immediately trained on her.

Now, she began to worry. Where was Ahsoka? She was long overdue. _How did they outflank us?_

She lunged for cover, surrounded by a blue arc of energy as she madly deflected blasters, twisting and writhing. They were coming from in front of her and behind her. She poured all of her energy into the Force, letting it guide her blade with inhuman speed and accuracy. But even so, she was tiring quickly. There were simply too many blasters, and she was alone.

Suddenly, the blaster fire stopped, and an ithorian stepped forward, his voice carefully modulated as his dual mouths spoke into his translator: “You’ve made a grave mistake, Jedi.”

Ilaria’s lip twitched in a defiant snarl, “I am not a Jedi.”

“We will see,” the ithorian said. “Stun her.”

Circles of blue energy not unlike the color of her lightsaber raced towards Ilaria, and she only managed to deflect a few before she was hit.

Ahsoka woke on a rocky floor, her hands bound behind her in energy cuffs. It was a familiar sensation, a familiar ache in her shoulders.

She blinked and shook her head. She was in a small cave that had been retrofitted into a cell, with a ray shield guarding the entrance, casting a bright red light over the cell. The familiar weight of her lightsabers was gone, along with her cloak and blaster.

Beside her, unconscious on the floor and likewise bound was Ilaria. Her hair had fallen loose from its braid, and it reflected the light of the ray shield with a strange sort of absorbing brilliance.

“Ilaria!” Ahsoka hissed, nudging her with her foot. “Wake up!”

It took a few attempts, but eventually Ilaria’s face scrunched and she sat up with a little difficulty, her eyes like slits as she took in the ray shield. “What happened?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “They ambushed us.”

“I noticed,” Ilaria said dryly. “The question is _how_.”

It was a fair question, and one that Ahsoka found she didn’t have an answer to. Her source had merely told her that someone related to the Empire had been acquiring weapons, and that there was ample opportunity to steal said weapons on Wrea. There had been no mention of The Black Sun.

But, it still didn’t make sense. If they had known that they were coming, why let them get so close to the entrance? Why not take them down immediately instead of almost immediately? There must have been something else that she was missing.

Ilaria must have sensed her thoughts, because she nodded along and added in agreement, “Yeah, something doesn’t seem right. But hey, at least we’re not dead yet.”

“Yet,” Ahsoka repeated. “We need to find a way out of here.”

However, Ilaria had already closed her eyes, her face a blank, peaceful expression that it only had when she meditated. When she opened them, her eyes were almost black in the dark of the cave, shining brightly with the red light of the ray shield. “Well, on a positive wavelength, I don’t think we’ll be waiting long for answers.”

A moment later, Ahsoka heard the footsteps, and an ilorthian with a company of four masked humaniod armed guards approached the cell. With the press of a keypad, the ray shield was disabled, and the guards shuffled in, yanking Ahsoka and Ilaria to their feet. The latter let out a growl at being dragged so. Ahsoka had heard her make the very inhuman sound a few times, and had since attributed it to all the time she spent around the yarkiokkajj.

His hands held in front of him pensively, the ilorthian remarked with the aid of his Basic translator, “Your companions refused to give us answers. I suggest that you are more compliant.”

_Companions?_

Ahsoka exchanged the smallest glance with Ilaria, and saw her own confusion reflected in her friend’s eyes.

They were being led down a circular tunnel that dripped with water, blasters held to their backs. The floor was slick with algae that had a faint luminescent green glow to it, and occasionally the tunnel would branch off, eerily reminiscent of the Coruscant industrial pipelines. Ahsoka pushed away the memory of being chased through those pipes not too many years prior, letting it go like a leaf on a pond. Now was not the time. The entire placed smelled damp, with hints of plasma and carbon. And, as they approached their destination, the depressingly familiar smell of burnt flesh wafted to Ahsoka’s nose.

They were herded into a dimly lit cavern, within which was a small assortment of serving droids and armed guards that Ahsoka guessed to be bounty hunters. At the back of the room, lounging in a throne carved out of the purple stone wall was a dug, smoking a cigar that released a stench similar to rotting rodents with its smoke. Resting beside him in his throne was her lightsabers along with Ilaria’s.

Laid out on the floor, promptly being dragged to the edges of the room by the guards that had brought Ahsoka and Ilaria was a small crew of what she could only guess were pirates. The gran, parwan, and human male all had black, crusted blaster scarring on their foreheads, their glassy eyes unseeing. With rough, deliberate ceremony, they were moved from in front of the throne, and Ahsoka and Ilaria were pushed in their place and kicked to their knees, effectively kneeling before the dug. Even there, the ground was damp, and slime oozed through the gaps in Ahsoka’s leg armor.

The ithorian retreated to the right of the throne, and on the left stood a female terrelian jango jumper, an cruel smirk on her face.

The dug took a long draw of his cigar, his whiskers trembling. Per typical dug fashion, he used one of his feet to hold it, while his arms rested on the sides of his roughly sawn throne. “So,” he growled, his lips curling with malicious humor, “how the Jedi have fallen. And yet, you dare steal from The Black Sun.”

Edl’elle’mir surveyed the two Jedi before her with satisfaction as they glared defiantly at Ike on his stone throne. How pathetic they looked, stripped of their weapons. They used to come in pairs, Master and Apprentice, except these two appeared to be close to the same age—a testament to their few numbers. They were forced to stay with whoever they could.

The togruta looked rather calm, even serene, as she knelt, but the human, her eyes were narrowed dangerously, her lips barely containing a snarl. How uncivilized—how _inhuman_ , as they liked to refer to it in the Inner Rim.

“We are not Jedi,” the togruta insisted, her voice calm and commanding.

Ike let out a wheezing laugh, and Edl’elle’mir allowed her smile to grow.

How stupid did the togruta think they were?

“Not Jedi?” Ike repeated incredulously, palming one of the lightsabers. “You must think I am a fool.”

“You’re the one who said it,” huffed the human, causing the togruta to shoot her a warning glance.

Edl’elle’mir found her interest captured, and she stared at the pair more intensely than ever, looking for what she thought she might find.

“Watch yourself, Jedi scum,” Ike growled dangerously.

The human woman bared her teeth in a true snarl this time, rather pathetic, but Edl’elle’mir found that she admired the creature’s persistence.

“ _I am not a Jedi_ ,” the woman snarled through her gritted teeth. She said it with such force, such poison, that even her companion gave her a look of reproach.

Edl’elle’mir felt a thrill of excitement. She could taste what was to come.

Ike leaned forward, studying the human through squinting eyes. “Tell me, not-a-Jedi, what are you then?”

The human glanced down, purposefully away from her companion’s now steady, almost concerned expression. When the human looked up again, her jaw was set, and there was a durasteel fire in her gaze that Edl’elle’mir knew well.

“I am a survivor,” she spat, her voice wreathing like a dying serpent. “I do what I must to survive.” She paused and glanced at the togruta, something like sorrow causing her expression to falter for a moment before returning to an expression as hard as rock. She returned her even gaze to Ike, fire burning in her rocky eyes, “No matter the cost.”

Now, she and Ike were in a stare off—a hissed and growled conversation where just the two of them mattered.

Edl’elle’mir nearly quivered with anticipation.

He leaned forward; his cigar now forgotten. “If you are a survivor, why try to rob The Black Sun? Even _you_ must know that is foolishness.”

The human woman shrugged. “I was able to fool a Jedi. After that, robbing you didn’t seem like a big deal.”

If anyone else had said those words, Ike would have ordered Edl’elle’mir to cut their tongue out, and she would have happily done it. And yet…when this woman said them, their seemed like a simple truth she could appreciate. She even smiled.

The togruta was now staring at her friend almost desperately, her blue eyes scanning the human face as if she was searching for something, and coming up hopeless as she failed to find it—as she realized what was happening.

Edl’elle’mir resisted the urge to cackle.

Ike gave a smile that could have doubled as a snarl. He leaned even further forward, balancing completely on his forearms. “Tell me, what do you see yourself becoming?”

The woman returned his smile, with a touch of sly warmth. “That depends on what you see me becoming.”

At these words, the togruta bowed her head in defeat, her shoulders sagging.

Ike leaned back, using his free foot to fiddle with his beaded whiskers as he studied the human carefully. The minutes ticket by, and her gaze never wavered. There was something about her that was enticing like fire: hot, dangerous, mesmerizing, and a wonderful weapon if used properly. She had that hunger that always seemed to be present around humans, only magnified.

The togruta look up at her companion again, her sorrow and defeat etched across her expression. “Ari,” she murmured, “Please, think about what you’re doing.”

If the human heard her, she did not react. Instead, she continued to gaze unwaveringly at Ike, like a loth cat waiting on its owner.

Finally, Ike shifted his weight. He had come to a decision.

“Would you be willing to pledge yourself to The Black Sun?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

“Would you be willing to prove yourself to The Black Sun?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

Ike motioned to Edl’elle’mir, and she approached the woman, pulling her to her feet and deactivating the energy cuffs.

“Thanks,” she said grumpily, rubbing her wrists.

Edl’elle’mir nodded and stepped aside.

The woman approached Ike, kneeling in front of him and bowing her head. Even her hair was like gold, as if just her presence was predicting the riches she would bring.

“I pledge myself to the service of the Black Sun.”

Ike nodded. “Stand,” he said, and once she did, he handed her one of the lightsabers. “Now, prove yourself. Kill the Jedi.”

The woman accepted the lightsaber and turned to face her companion, whom once more seemed calm, but still full of sorrow. At least she would accept her fate with dignity, although Edl’elle’mir would have preferred it if she struggled.

The lightsaber ignited, a beam of humming white energy.

The woman approached her companion with slow, deliberate steps, the same stormy fire blazing in her determined expression. She raised the lightsaber—


	16. Chapter 16

Whenever a baby yarkiokkajj was injured, or an old one was dying, the other members of the herd would use the Force to influence its mind. They would replace pain with happiness and sleepiness, needles with sunlight, and heat with cool waters.

It was a subtle manipulation, pure, with nothing but good intention.

And yet, sometimes the yarkiokkajj would use a similar trick to lull mudfish into comfort, shallowcrabs into complacency…

Above, on the surface of the island, Ilaria had struggled to focus, to find herself. There was too much going on—too much wind, too much foliage, and, to be fair, too much anxiety on her part. But, below in the tunnels, there was only the distant sound of the waves, the occasional dripping of water, and the minds of those that hid in the tunnels. Yes, it seemed as if their presences in the Force echoed around her, shouting to her clear as day.

As they were forced to their knees in that ramshackle throne room, she thought of the yarkiokkajj hunting, and how easily mudfish were lulled into thoughts of dosing in warm, shallow waters.

And so as she spoke, she reached out into the Force, committing herself to the words she said, walking the fine line. She let her anger bloom through her words, her actions. She let her presence curl into the minds of those in the room, primarily the dug, the woman (whose species she did not know), and the ithorian. She let them see her for how beautiful, how promising and powerful she could be to their cause.

Because, she _knew_ she would be. She knew that if she joined The Black Sun, she would be one of their best, most coveted pirates. She knew it as well as she breathed.

And they knew it too.

And so, as she stood above Ahsoka, she didn’t have time to concentrate on the look of sorrow and calm acceptance in her friend’s beautiful blue eyes before she lowered her head, ready to accept her fate. She didn’t have time to think about how much it broke her heart or the white lightsaber she held, how light it was in her grip.

No, Ilaria was, in a way, gone.

She was deep within her own mind, and the mind of those around her, for they had become melded together.

She could feel the brimming anticipating in the room, like a pack of adars surrounding an injured bantha baby. She could feel Ike’s excitement, him already daydreaming of using her skills for piracy. She could feel the woman’s excitement at the prospect of Ahsoka being beheaded, and the ithorian’s thoughts of a possible promotion (after all, he had been the one to capture her). She could feel the anticipation of the bounty hunters to watch a Jedi fall.

The Force moved her body, raising the lightsaber for her. Slowly, deliberately, giving her enough time to close her eyes and concentrate…

Ilaria did not know exactly what she wished for, besides for that she wished for the minds she was curled within to end. She felt their evil seeping into her, and she despised it. She felt all their horrible deeds, all their venom.

 _Let it end_ , she silently whispered to the Force. _Let them end._

Their minds all went black, and Ilaria felt mental whiplash reverberate through her skull as she was suddenly snapped back into her own thoughts. She stumbled, instinctively deactivating the lightsaber, and fell to her knees as the bodies dropped around her. For a moment, the world seemed to dim and brighten, and stars wandered and swirled across her vision. Her ears rang. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her slime-covered hands.

“Ilaria! _Ilaria_!”

With difficulty, and with the world still very much spinning, Ilaria looked up at Ahsoka, whom had somehow escaped her energy cuffs and was gently shaking her shoulder. Her blue eyes were wide with emotions that Ilaria didn’t have the energy to comprehend. She felt like she was watching it all through the lens of a dream.

“Ilaria,” Ahsoka repeated, giving her shoulder another squeeze. “Ilaria, stay with me.”

“I’m here,” Ilaria assured her weakly. The room was still spinning precariously, dimming and lightening as it moved.

“Can you stand?”

Ilaria nodded, and Ahsoka helped her to her feet as stars danced across her vision again. She stood patiently until Ilaria was ready to move.

Eventually, her vision cleared and it was easier to see as Ilaria returned to herself. She was aware of Ahsoka staring at her with a mixture of worry and fear, just as she was aware that everyone else in the room was dead.

“Ilaria…how…?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Ilaria said, not sure if she even wanted to. Bile rose in her throat. “I…I’ve never done that before. I thought…I…” She felt stupid, hot tears coming to her eyes and quickly blinked them away. “Can we just go?”

Her skin felt like it was covering in pinpricks, invisible needles driving into her pores.

What had she just done?

Ahsoka did her best to focus on the present, diving deep into the Force around her to keep herself on the present and immediate future. There was no time for her own memories of betrayal that threatened to brim like an over-filled cup.

There were a few things that she was certain of: everyone else in the room was dead, Ilaria had done it, and she looked much worse for wear for it. Her skin was ghostly pale, her eyes glassy, and she swayed where she stood. In the Force, her presence was so diminished Ahsoka could hardly detect that she was there at all. Whatever she had done, it had cost her dearly.

There wasn’t time to think about it. They had to move.

“I’m going to signal our pick up and scout the rest of the tunnels for supplies and weapons,” said Ahsoka. She had a wry feeling that there wasn’t many pirates left in the underground labyrinth. “You, stay here, and keep your comm link on.”

She went to the throne, on which the dug slouched like some gruesome display, his grey tongue lolling out of his gaping mouth, and retrieved the remaining two lightsabers. His forgotten cigar rested on the stone in front of the throne, still emitting a thin tendril of acrid smoke.

Ilaria accepted her lightsaber wordlessly with a trembling hand.

“We will discuss this later,” said Ahsoka, trying to sound as calming as she could. She put a reassuring hand on Ilaria’s arm and gave a small squeeze. Her skin was alarmingly chilled. “Right now, the important thing is that you saved us.” She reflected that she said it for as much her benefit as Ilaria’s.

The only response she got was a slight nod with a half-hearted “Alright.”

Giving her friend’s arm one more squeeze, Ahsoka made her way for the tunnels, refusing to look back. Still, she was relieved to leave the throne room behind.

The tunnel system was large, and from the winds that sometimes rippled through it with high-pitched whistles, Ahsoka guessed that they intersected the entire underside of the island. However, it seemed that this was still a relatively small base for The Black Sun, with only those near the throne room and tunnel entrance appearing to be populated.

She only ran into a handful of remaining pirates, and easily dispatched them, knocking them unconscious when she could. Apparently, most of the force had been within the throne room to watch her execution. It wasn’t a completely reassuring thought.

The cells where they had been held were devoid of any other inhabitants, which was just fine by Ahsoka. She discovered various crates of weapons, with contents ranging from disruptor rifles, to seismic charges, to even homing missiles and ion blasters. There was also a handful of deactivated medical droids and astromechs, and a few crates of spice. At least they would get a good haul of supplies.

Her lekku and montral sensory organs helped her feel the shifts in the winds that would occasionally cross through the tunnels, and by following the gusts that carried the crisp scent of foliage, Ahsoka was able to find the tunnel entrance once more.

Squinting in the bright light of the primary, Ahsoka activated her comm link. “Fulcrum to _Argo_ , we are ready for pickup. Lock onto my coordinates.”

“ _Argo_ to Fulcrum,” Captain Vesta’s voice came over the link. “We are headed your way. See you in a standard minute. Argo out.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the old freighter appeared from the clouds above. As it touched down near the tunnel entrance, Ahsoka climbed the rocky hill and looked over the other side. Sure enough, as Ilaria had predicted, there was the freighter the Black Sun crew had come in on. Using her electrobinoculars, she studied the ship and saw that it was only accompanied by a singular astromech. Obviously, the pirates had not been overly worried about security.

She climbed back down to meet the rebels that were to assist with loading up the cargo. She was greeted by Harland’s familiar impish grin, and the green rodian known as Saual.

“We were starting to get worried,” said Harland as he followed Ahsoka into the tunnel.

“We ran into some problems,” Ahsoka admitted. “As it turns out, this is a base used by The Black Sun for weapons transport.”

“The Black Sun?” Saual repeated.

Ahsoka nodded affirmation. “Yes, but all the pirates have been neutralized. Right now our primary goal is to get the supplies out before anyone else arrives.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yes. It appears that we weren’t the only ones trying to steal this shipment. There was another small band of pirates.”

“What happened to them?”

“And where’s Ilaria?” added Harland.

“The Black Sun took care of them, and she’s waiting for us.” Ahsoka decided that she didn’t want to explain to the rebels what had happened in the throne room. Not yet, anyway. She stopped at a fork in the tunnels. “The supplies are to the right. I will be back shortly to join you.”

Her tone left no room for argument, but she sensed the couple’s curiosity as they headed off, following her directions without complaint. Wasting no time looking after them, Ahsoka headed back to the throne room.

Ilaria sat cross-legged in the middle of the murk, gnawing on a ration bar. In front of her was a pile of miscellaneous weapons, holsters, and supplies, and in her lap, she held a bundle of grey and brown fabric, and on top of that, her lightsaber.

“It seemed a waste to leave it with them,” she said nodding towards the fallen. Some of the color had returned to her features, but not much. Faint circles were etched under her eyes. “I don’t think they’ll be needing them anymore. I also figure these have done enough bad. Perhaps it’s time they were used for some good.”

It put a sour taste in Ahsoka’s mouth, but there was the plain fact that the rebellion needed weapons and supplies desperately, and Ilaria had a good point. She woefully remembered the days when she didn’t have to scavenge weapons from the dead.

“Good thinking,” she said. “What’s in your lap?”

“Our cloaks.”

Ilaria stood rather ungracefully, holding up the fabric to emphasize her point. She tossed Ahsoka’s cloak to her, which she caught deftly, and used her own to fashion a makeshift rucksack for the supplies she had collected.

“You can go on to the others, if you want,” she said, placing a blaster in the grey folds. Her tone was detached, and her movements stiff. “I can catch up.”

“They’ve got it under control,” said Ahsoka, tucking her balled cloak under her arm and stepping forward to help.

“Did you find the pirate’s ship?”

“On the other side of the ridge like you said.”

“Are we stealing it?”

“Might as well.”

“Should we take the pirates you knocked out and drop them off somewhere populated?”

“I’m sure their companions are already on their way.”

Once the cloak was full and oddly bulging, Ahsoka offered to carry it, to which Ilaria wearily agreed. She comm’ed Harland and Saual, told them of their intention to take the pirate’s ship before setting off down the tunnels in the direction of the ship, the breeze and her fair sense of direction guiding them.

Ilaria didn’t speak for some time.

It was a silence that Ahsoka didn’t press. She could feel it even within the Force, heavy and translucent. She had the droid – and R4 unit designated as R4-C7 – remove the Black Sun’s tracker from the belly of the ship and then powered down on board of the ship. She deposited their spoils in the common area, and moved to the cockpit, Ilaria numbly following.

Even as Ahsoka took the pilots seat, and Ilaria the copilots, and they followed the _Argo_ into the atmosphere, the silence remained unbroken.

The stars elongated, and they went on the first of three hyperspace jumps, in order to throw off anyone that could be pursuing them, however unlikely they may be. The ethereal tunnel of space continuously swallowed them, like the neck of some infinite beast.

“You thought I was going to do it,” Ilaria said quietly, her gaze trained ahead.

It wasn’t a question, and Ahsoka didn’t do it the injustice of treating it as such. She considered lying, but knew she would never. Even if she really wanted to, she knew it would be easier to lie to herself than to Ilaria.

“I did,” she confessed. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.”

Ilaria let out a choked, humorless laugh. Her voice was thick with self-loathing, “What do you have to be sorry for? Nothing. I played you just as much as I played them.”

The words struck Ahsoka rather strongly, and her fingertips tingled. The thing was, Ilaria was right.

“Yes, you did. But, if I had trusted you more, then I wouldn’t have been played. If I had trusted you to do the right thing, then I would have known that I was in no danger from you.”

“But that’s the thing,” Ilaria growled with frustration, tapping a fist on the console. “It was unfair for me to do to you—especially you. I shouldn’t have put you in a position like that.”

“Especially me?”

Ilaria bit her chewed her lip, averting her gaze. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did.”

“What do you want me to say, Ash?”

“Why did you say _especially_ me?”

“ _Because_ , Ahsoka.” Ilaria’s voice was growing hoarse and tight, and her eyes bright. “Because I care about you. And it hurts me to hurt you. And I know how that hurt you. I felt it.”

Now it was Ahsoka’s turn to look away. She stared down at the console, and thought back to the moment when she was sure Ilaria was betraying her. She had thought of the clones on Mandalore, the Jedi when they expelled her, when her family had turned on her. The same desperation for it to not be true, and the horrifying and sorrowful realization that it was.

But it wasn’t.

She had never told Ilaria in great detail about those experiences, but she supposed she didn’t have to.

“Ilaria, you did what you had to do. You saved us.”

Her words were met with sullen silence, her companion staring determinedly ahead.

Ahsoka realized how painfully inexperienced she was at expressing her feelings. She had been raised in a way where you couldn’t look at someone and say _I care about you_. But, wasn’t that part of the reason she had left? Maybe not at the time, but the lack of attachment definitely played into it all. To her, the Jedi were her family, just one that she could never say _I love you_ to.

She took a measured breath, and tried again, “Ari, I don’t blame you. I want you to know that. I…I wish I had trusted you more because I _do_ care about you and…it hurt because it felt like I was losing someone else I cared about.”

Their eyes met, and a tear trickled down Ilaria’s cheek that she quickly wiped away. When it came to it, Ahsoka’s own eyes stung, and she wiped them before any tears could get momentum.

“Look at us,” sniffled Ilaria, running her hands over her face. “A bunch of moof-milkers that smell like the backside of a bantha.”

Ahsoka chuckled, and agreed. They fell into a much more comfortable silence, and the next time she glanced over at Ilaria, she was asleep, her mouth parted slightly as she took long, slow breaths.


	17. Chapter 17

Sometimes, Ahsoka had dreams. Well, not exactly dreams. Nightmares would have been a better description, but it was easier to think of them as simply dreams. For some reason, the connotation of dreams was easier to forget, to brush off, than that of nightmares.

The last day of the Clone Wars, hunted down and falling as the cruiser crashed. Dodging debris, flak, fire, all the while watching the moon’s surface grow closer and closer through the smoke. There was nothing but surviving.

And then, there was the surface. There was the superheated hull of the ship slowly cooling, the final bursts of explosions, the smoke trailing for days as the fires burned out. Days. That’s what it had taken for them to dig through the wreckage, to produce the bodies of her fallen comrades, her friends, before they tried to murder her. And that’s what it had taken for them for bury them. The smoke choked her lungs with the tarnish of dead men and rubble, her mouth incapable of words, afraid to even speak, her throat too tight.

The universe was lost, and she stared at their helmets, scratched and battered, many of them sporting the markings she was born with, her own face. The markings floated off the helmets, coming towards her through the air, sticking determinedly to her face, wet and sticky like paint. She tried to pull them away, and only succeeded with smearing her fingertips with warm, wet blood.

Her eyes snapped open, rapidly adjusting to the dark until she was staring at the ceiling of her bunk, her heart racing. She lay completely still, listening to her heartbeat pulsing against her chest, painfully loud in the silent of the room.

Except, it wasn’t silent.

Above, she could hear the snoring of the vulptice pups, and if she concentrated, the faint sound of Ilaria’s gentle breathing. For a while, she sat and listened to the pups snore, and then she wondered how they were sleeping. Were they in their usual pile, or were the boys snuggling while their sister rested on Ilaria’s chest, curled up against her neck? Yes, Salt in particular loved Ilaria, who often complained (happily) that she was sure the vulptice pup would one day smother her in her sleep.

Ahsoka continued to stare at the metal ceiling to her bunk, afraid to close her eyes, afraid to see their broken and burned bodies once more. Slowly, she brought her hands before her eyes, inspecting them for blood, and then rubbed her fingers together to be sure. No blood, just skin.

The bunk creaked, and there was the shuffling of skin and fabric from above, accompanied by a disgruntled vulptice pup growl. Ilaria groaned, and in her hoarse, half-asleep voice said, “Ash, you…awake?”

She considered saying nothing, and pretending that she was still fast asleep. “Yeah.”

“Dosh, what time…is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Ilaria let out another groan, and there was a further shuffling of blankets, this time accompanied by a squeaky vulptice pup yawn. A moment later, a warm, soft velvet blanket was thrown day from the top bunk, landing directly on Ahsoka’s face.

“Use this, and get some sleep you heathen.”

“What is a blanket going to do?”

“Trustttt m-me,” Ilaria yawned.

“I can’t take your blanket.”

“I have another. _Go to sleep_.”

There was a little bit of the Force in her words, but Ahsoka was thankful, because she already felt her heart calming once more, and her eyes drooping shut. Pulling the still-warm blanket around her, she rubbed her cheek against it’s soft surface, inhaling deeply. It smelled like salt and sunshine. She closed her eyes, and this time, there was no dreams, only the comforting nothingness of a deep sleep.

The next morning, she was the first one to wake up, per usual. She was wrapped up in Ilaria’s cream-colored velvet blanket, and was surprised at how little she wanted to get out of her bunk. But, it would take more than a blanket to change her early-rising habit. Pushing the blanket aside, she stood and stretched, not taking care to be quiet. She had quickly learned that Ilaria slept like an old bantha, and it was a miracle if she woke up before midday without the aid of an alarm or a prod to the ribs.

Yawning and stretching her arms behind her back, she turned to see Ilaria still fast asleep in her bunk, as expected, except she was using her grey cloak as a blanket. The pups seemed to glow against the dark fabric, and they regarded Ahsoka with their shining eyes. Since they had become a part of their daily lives, they normally functioned as Ilaria’s sunrise alarm.

Looking once more from the blanket on her bunk, to Ilaria using her cloak as one, Ahsoka felt a grateful rush of affection for her friend. Now being a little careful to not wake Ilaria, she plucked up the pups from their adoptive mother’s bed, and carried them outside. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she slept a hair later that morning

It was a particularly cool day on Crait when Harland found himself approaching Ilaria and Ahsoka’s freighter. The ramp was down, and Ilaria sat cross-legged at the base of it, using a frayed piece of rope to play tug-of-war with the vulptice pups. She smiled at them with warm affection that she rarely bestowed upon anyone else. Except maybe Ahsoka, who was stars-know-where at the moment. Maybe she was off meditating. She did that a lot.

When the pups caught sight of Harland, they raced over to him, yipping happily and jumping up at his legs. They had grown a lot in the past few weeks, but still only reached his mid-calf when they stood on their hind legs.

“Hi guys,” said Harland, bending down and carefully stroking the pups as to avoid their newly sprouting crystal coats. Their rough tongues lapped at his skin.

“What’s on your mind?” called Ilaria from where she sat.

Harland sometimes got the weird feeling that she could read his thoughts as easily as a datapad. “Some of the pilots are passing around their latest brew,” he said. “I thought you might want to come join, if you’re not too busy.”

Ilaria considered for a second, and gracefully swept to her feet. Her golden hair was in rare form, free from the braids she normally wore to tame it. “That sounds like a good time.”

“Great,” said Harland. He pat Rock on top of his head. “What about the pups?”

“They’ll have fun harassing everyone,” said Ilaria

The pilots and rebels sat in a rough circle around a transportable lantern that gave off dim yellow light and the barrel of their latest brew. When they caught sight of Ilaria, they greeted her by her last name-turned nickname, Moon, and then devoted their attentions to the pups, who quickly made their rounds begging for treats and attention.

Harland and Ilaria were promptly passed two canisters of brew, and they each took a seat on free stools. The latter was quite, sipping her brew and listening with astute interest as the pilots swapped war stories.

“We had to be undetectable,” Nikki was saying. She was short a short human with angle eyes and sleek, short black hair, and she was nonchalant as she spoke, Salt cradled in her arms. “So, to avoid the scanners we turned off our engines and just plummeted towards the surface. We couldn’t turn on our engines until the last second, and by then, those bucket heads didn’t know what hit them.”

“Didn’t you crash that day?” asked Crasher, a pilot notorious for crashing ships and still managing to walk away. Thanks to his nickname, he kept meticulous track of everyone’s crashes.

“Right into an Imperial outpost,” said Nikki proudly.

That got a good chuckle, and a few people called her crazy. The truth was they all had similar stories about how they miraculously escaped death when fighting the Empire. No one ever phrased it quite like that, though.

May’rd, one of the twi’lek pilots looked at Ilaria, “How do you like the brew, Moon? Is it up to your standards?”

She smiled like a vulptice. “It’s good. Sweeter than where I come from, though.”

“Sweeter?” exclaimed May’rd. “You lie!”

“She’s not lying,” said Harland, wrinkling his nose as he recalled the bitter aftertaste of Scaleale.

“I feel sorry for you then,” laughed Nikki, holding up her canister. “Here’s to sweet brew!”

They all cheered and drank, and a game of “two truths and a lie” began. The premise of the game was simple: you stated three facts about yourself. Two were true and one was a lie. Everyone would guess which was a lie, and those that got it wrong would have to drink. Harland thought Ilaria had an unfair advantage, but he didn’t say so. Even so, she gave him a knowing smile that only proved his point.

“I’ll start,” said Voncile, whom had a very sleepy Salt in her lap. “I kissed a stormtrooper. I’ve met the Emperor. And, I once mooned an Imperial officer.”

Ilaria leaned close to Harland and whispered, “What’s ‘mooned’?”

He felt his cheeks flush, and wondered if it was the brew. “It’s when you pull down your pants and show someone your rear.”

She laughed, and decidedly looked ahead. She voted that the stormtrooper one was a lie. Only Harland and Vesta joined her, and the rest had to drink.

May’rd went next. “I have four tattoos. I was married to a Wookie. And, I once hid in the garbage chute of a Star Destroyer.”

Harland guessed Wookie, Ilaria guessed Star Destroyer, and the others split their guesses between the two. It was only Nikki that guessed tattoos, and as it turned out, she was right.

“And how do you know that?” Ilaria inquired innocently. “Because I only see four.”

Nikki blushed, May’rd averted his eyes with a toothy smile, and everyone else roared with laughter. The game went on for some time, until everyone began to fall quiet, and eyes cut across the hangar behind where Ilaria and Harland sat. He twisted around and saw Ahsoka striding towards them.

Ilaria leaned backwards, the only one of them completely unintimidated, tilting her stool so that it was balanced on two legs as she looked at Ahsoka from upside down.

“You look busy,” the togruta noted, coming to a stop a few paces behind Ilaria.

“Very,” said Ilaria dramatically, still leaning precariously back to look at her friend. She must have been using the Force to keep her balance. “I’m so swamped. I don’t know how I will manage it.”

Ahsoka smiled sweetly, and with a flick of her wrist, upset the balance of Ilaria’s stool so that its legs slipped forward, and its occupant went tumbling backwards to the ground. The group, suitably drunk on brew, roared with laughter. The guffaws only intensified as Ilaria simply laid on the ground, using her stool as a footrest and casually putting her arms behind her head as a pillow, declared, “Now this is _truly_ the busiest I’ve ever been.”

It even got a laugh out of Ahsoka. “You’re impossible.” She offered Ilaria a hand, and pulled her to her feet.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Harland asked Ahsoka, gesturing to another empty seat. “You haven’t tried May’rd’s brew yet, have you?”

Ahsoka admitted that she had not, and soon she too was sitting within their circle, laughing as the others swapped stories. After a fair number of brews had been poured, and everyone was considerably drunk, the circle fell quiet as Ahsoka began on of her own stories, one about the Clone Wars. Most of them had stories about the Clone Wars, but few had ones comparable to hers.

“It was at the Second Battle of Geonosis,” she said, her eyes starting into the lantern dreamily. “My master had made this game of the battles, where we competed to see who could destroy the most droids. We go through this entire planetary assault, and I had downed 60 droids whereas he had only downed 55. At the end, when I told him this, you know what he said to me? He looks at me at goes ‘well, I called in the airstrike, so it’s a tie.’ Not to mention, he was the one that led us straight into a heavily armed, walled fortress.” She rolled her eyes when she finished, as if she were there all over again.

“Sounds like May’rd,” said Vesta.

“Hey!”

They all laughed.

“We should start a game like that,” said Voncile cheerfully, giving Nikki wicked grin. “I bet I could take out more stormtroopers than you.”

“I’ll take that bet.”

The conversation drifted elsewhere, but it wasn’t long before Ilaria, whose eyes kept darting to Ahsoka, excused herself, “Thanks for the brew. You did a fantastic job, May’rd.” She touched Ahsoka on the shoulder, a subtle motion that they were only brave enough to notice out of the corners of their eyes. “But we should get going—we have a long day tomorrow.”

The two women stood and left, Ilaria leading Ahsoka by the hand. The pups promptly followed.

When they were suitably far away, Nikki held out an open hand to May’rd, “Pay up.”

“Speculation is not official,” he said.

“What more proof do you need?”

“Well,” said Vesta, “The bet was when they would start dating, and they haven’t started calling each other girlfriend yet.”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Come on, what does that matter?”

“Rules are rules,” said May’rd with a smile. “You’re just mad because give it two more weeks, and Harland will be in the lead for the pot.”

“You’re just mad that you’ve already lost.”

A group of them had bet when Ilaria and Ahsoka would start dating. Each of them through in ten credits, and everyone picked a week. If they started dating that week, that person won the pot (roughly a hundred credits). Currently, Voncile, Vesta, and May’rd had all passed their picks, and now it was just Harland and Nikki left, and it was nearing the end of Nikki’s week.

“You could always ask if they’re dating,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks, but I like having my head attached to my neck.”

Over the past few years, it had grown easier for Ahsoka to fend off memories of the past. However, the brew had compromised her abilities to keep them at bay, and she found her mind swarmed with them. Brew and dreams: that was when the past threatened to overwhelm her the most. Her runaway thoughts flew through her mind She thought of Anakin, Obi-Wan, the temple she had called home for so long. Coruscant—would she ever see it again? The padawans. The younglings. Rex, and all the troopers she had fought alongside. Jesse, Fives, Cody. All gone save for Rex, and stars knew where he was.

Ilaria led the way into their ship, depositing Ahsoka on her bunk, with the velvet blanket she had bought for her. Yes, Ilaria had bought Ahsoka her very own velvet blanket. She didn’t say where or how she had gotten it, but one day Ahsoka had entered the room and found it on her bunk, a deep, ocean blue and wrapped in silver ribbon. For some reason, Ahsoka had kept the ribbon, carefully rolled up and stashed in her pillow.

Cold, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

Ilaria returned with two packets of dry rations and a water bottle. She opened one of the rations and handed it over to Ahsoka, “You underestimated that brew, Ash.”

She agreed, accepting the ration. It tasted like dust. The pups were already piled in their bed in the corner, their large dark eyes watching them eat with tired disinterest. “They need a bigger bed.”

“They need to stop growing,” said Ilaria, sitting down beside Ahsoka. She opened the water bottle and passed it to Ahsoka before ripping open her own ration pack. “Do you want to talk?”

“No, it’s fine.”

How could she even begin to explain?

Ilaria gave her a look that was somehow both hardness and compassion. “Ahsoka, I don’t need to be in your mind to feel you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, that came out wrong, but the point still stands.”

Ahsoka gave a huff of reluctant amusement and examined the water bottle in her hands. Its polished durasteel shone in the white artificial light of the room. “There’s not much to say. They were my…they were the closest thing I had to a family. And now they’re gone.”

“They _are_ your family,” corrected Ilaria. “Just because they’re not physically here with you doesn’t mean they’re gone. You carry them with you.”

Maybe it was the brew, most likely the brew, but Ahsoka’s eyes began to sting. She squeezed them shut, trying to stop it.

“It’s okay,” said Ilaria gently, taking the unfinished ration and water from Ahsoka’s hands. The bottle made a metallic clink as she set it on the floor. She lifted a delicate hand as if to touch Ahsoka’s cheek, but hesitated, and instead gently touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, Ash.”

Okay? How could it all be okay?

The galaxy was in shambles, Jedi were hunted like grantaloupes, the Empire’s hold only solidifying, turning from lava to black rock. And everyone was gone. If only she had stayed…

And that was when the tears began to spill from her stinging eyes, hot as they dripped down her cheeks.

Ilaria pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly, and Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in the crook of Ilaria’s neck as the horrible, silent tears continued to flow, as her breathing drew choked and ragged. She was vaguely aware of Ilaria soothingly rubbing her arm, her warm cheek resting against the side of her montral. The sensation was strange, affecting her already impaired perception of space, and Ahsoka was suddenly intimately aware of how warm Ilaria’s cheek was, and the soft brush of her breath.

The lights switched off and Ilaria, laid down, gently pulling Ahsoka with her. The bunk was tight with her in it as well, and incredibly comforting. Even as Ahsoka’s tears ebbed, and her breathing steadied, she was already nodding off to sleep.

She was almost completely asleep when Ilaria spoke, her voice coarse and soft, as if the galaxy could not let her live outside of irony, without exposing the grit that comprised her at her most vulnerable moments, “Sometimes…sometimes I feel your sadness and I want to carry it for you so that you never again have to.” She took a shaky breathy, the air in her lungs echoing in Ahsoka’s ears. Her pulse, loud and ever-present to Ahsoka’s touch. “But I think it’s the happiest memories that make us the saddest.”

Ahsoka felt fresh tears come to her eyes, and she buried her even farther into Ilaria’s soft neck. She was dimly aware that they were a warm tangle of arms and legs, and Ilaria was hugging her so tightly Ahsoka wondered how she was breathing. Soon, she was drifting off to a deep, dreamless sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

The wave of sensations that awoke Ahsoka the next morning were novel, and it took her mind a while to acclimate. First, she was aware of a distinct throbbing in her head. Next, she was inexplicitly warm and comfortable, her pillow was softer than she remembered. And moving, gently falling and rising…pulsing. The previous night slowly came back to her, and she realized that it wasn’t a pillow at all.

Her heart began to race. She laid there, immobile, unsure of how to comprehend the sensations bombarding her senses, the tightness growing in her throat. She considered getting up and going on a walk to meditate, to get some air and clear her head. And yet, she didn’t want to. When it came down to it, she wanted to stay curled up in that bunk forever. Not that she could have gotten up stealthily, even if she wanted to. One of her legs was trapped under Ilaria’s, and Ahsoka realized that she was otherwise practically laying on top of Ilaria. Smothering, would have been a good word for it.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

As if on cue, a high-pitched whine pierced the air. Ahsoka reluctantly opened her eyes again. Salt had woken up, and she was sitting up among her sleeping brothers and staring at Ahsoka quizzically. Taking careful, unbalanced steps, the pup tottered over her brothers and made her way to the bunk. She sat down in front of Ahsoka’s face and let out another whine.

“Alright, alright,” she whispered, reaching down and scooping the pup up. Thankfully, Ilaria was a heavy sleeper, and she didn’t stir as the pup teetered to her chest, where it curled up into a tiny ball and promptly closed its eyes once more. “Little womp rat.”

Ilaria’s abdomen contracted as she let out an amused snort, absolutely startling Ahsoka.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmured, half asleep. Her voice was hoarse like it always when she was sleepy and her eyes were still closed.

Ahsoka stifled a yawn, “You’re f-f-fine. I thought you were asleep.”

“I am,” Ilaria assured drowsily. The woman could sleep for days. “You….you should be too. Too…early.”

She was right, of course. Ahsoka could still feel the stillness in the base around them, the crisp chill in the air. On any other day she had woken up early, she may have been tempted to go on a morning run. On any other morning. “You’re right…do you want to go back to your own bunk?”

But, no answer came, as Ilaria was already fast asleep.

“Figures,” huffed Ahsoka, finding that she wasn’t mad at all. She nestled her cheek against Ilaria’s shirt, and let out a long sigh.

That day, hand-to-hand combat training was difficult. They circled each other in the soft red dirt that had been brought into the gym in lieu of a training mat. Ilaria had progressed immensely in the past few months, and even though Ahsoka regularly threw her into the red sand, she always got back up, ready to go the next round.

They walked slowly, sizing each other up. Ilaria never preferred to take the offensive, something they constantly had to work on. Sometimes, you had to jump first. Ahsoka would have been rich if she had been given five credits every time she had to remind Ilaria of this.

Ilaria moved with a predatory stillness, each foot landing softly in the sand, her dark eyes never leaving Ahsoka. She had braided her hair back, but it was already falling out. Red dirt was smeared across her right side from their previous round.

Ilaria rushed forward, and they exchanged a flurry of blows before jumping apart once more.

Ahsoka managed to land one good blow in the exchange, pulling her punches as much as she could without sacrificing effectiveness. “You need to keep your guard up.”

An impish smile danced across Ilaria’s lips. “But then you won’t be able to hit on me. Oh wait, I meant hit me.”

The flirting was an attempt to throw Ahsoka off. She knew it, but it worked anyways. In the moment she frowned, Ilaria struck, covering the space separating them with one lithe leap. Her attack was swift and perfectly timed, and Ahsoka was thrown into the dirt for the first time since they had begun training. A moment later, Ilaria was on top of her, an armored forearm held against her throat. Their faces were centimeters from each other, close enough for her to see the gold around Ilaria’s irises. She was laughing.

“Make a holovid, mark it on your standard calendars,” Ilaria jested to a non-existent crowd, sweeping to her feet and offering a hand to pull Ahsoka to hers as well. “Tell your mothers! For the first time ever, I will not be the only one leaving here looking like a rusted hull.”

“Ha ha,” said Ahsoka, accepting the hand up. She promptly used the opportunity to sweep Ilaria’s feet out from under her, sending her to the ground once more with an indignant cry. Ahsoka stood over her, crossing her arms and smiling, “Play dirty tricks, get dirty tricks.”

The process of Ilaria regaining air in her lungs was postponed by her attempts to laugh. She spoke through gasping breaths, “I…think…I’ve…seen…that…holovid.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

It was the pups, which sat at the rim of the training ring, that first detected Bail’s presence. They stopped their own wrestling match and jumped to their paws, yipping happily as they raced to greet the Senator. He dutifully bent down to greet them each. “I see the training is going well.”

“I actually won one round today, thank you very much,” said Ilaria smartly. She got to her feet and gave Bail a small nod. It was one of the few respectful gestures in her day-to-day book, and half the time Ahsoka wondered if she meant it mockingly. However, she could sense her companion’s genuine respect for the Senator.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Bail, standing straight as the pups lost interest in him and raced off towards the main hangar. His eyes rested on Ahsoka. “I have come across some information that may be of interest to you.”

He led them to the area of the cave reserved for command and data, where a familiar planet was circulating on a dais. “This is Ryloth.”

Ilaria’s humor had faded. As she studied the rotating holo, her expression was determined, thoughtful. “The twi’lek homeworld.”

“Yes,” said Bail. He clicked the dais and the holo shifted to one of Ryloth’s moons, the largest one. “Moff Delian Mors uses the planet’s largest moon as her command base. One of our allies has informed us that there is rumors that the Moff resents her assignment. Our informant also states that Moff Mors is fond of spice and extravagant parties…”

“You want to see if we can recruit her to our cause,” Ilaria surmised. “Who is this informant?”

“Cham Syndulla.”

Ilaria stared at him blankly, and before she could make a sarcastic comment, Ahsoka explained, “He’s a Ryloth native and freedom fighter. He fought during the Clone Wars, and has founded the Free Ryloth movement since the rise of the Empire.”

“I see.” From Ilaria’s tone, it was evident she would have more questions on the subject later, when they were alone. Her eyebrows furrowed. “How are we supposed to get to this Moff? I imagine we can’t just walk up and knock.”

“No,” said Bail with endless patience. “The Moff is throwing a party in three rotations. Her parties are usually large and…disorganized. It would not be difficult for an extra entertainer to slip in…”

“Perfect,” said Ilaria grimly.

That evening, they climbed the mountain in search of a good place to do lightsaber training. Training on the mountain offered two advantages: being away from other rebels and supplies that could easily be maimed/ damaged (respectively), and giving Ahsoka the perfect opportunity to teach Ilaria how to fight on uneven, imperfect terrain. Due to the latter point, they always picked somewhere new, unfamiliar spot to train when they went up in the mountains.

They were hardly ten minutes into the hike when Ilaria questioned, “What’s wrong with Cham Syndulla?”

Sometimes Ahsoka wished Ilaria couldn’t read her so well. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with him. I have not personally met him. Although, Obi-wan fought with him on Ryloth during the Clone Wars.” It still sent a small pang through her to think of Obi-Wan, and she reflected that Ilaria was one of the few people she could casually talk about Obi-wan with. “Over the years, I have gotten the impression that he is…hotheaded. And he cares about Ryloth more than anything else.”

“Which is dangerous,” Ilaria said. She climbed ahead of Ahsoka, so she couldn’t make out her expression. “Recorded.”

“Are you nervous about your first solo mission?”

“Of course.” Ilaria leapt to a rock that jutted out a little farther from the side of the mountain, and turned to examine the landscape before them. She looked off the mountain every time they hiked, so consumed with hunger and excitement that it radiated through the Force and sent new energy coursing through Ahsoka’s own arms. “At least it’ll be something I’m familiar with. Planets may change, but I figure parties rarely do.”

Ahsoka was inclined to agree, but she was more inclined to begin training. Seeing Ilaria’s thoughts preoccupied elsewhere, she leapt towards her. She used the Force to propel herself high above Ilaria, coming down with her lightsabers in a deadly arc.

Her companion wasn’t caught completely unaware, though. Blue met white as Ilaria parried the attack and leapt backwards, dashing up the mountain. She took on the terrain like she was born to it, moving with the same savage grace as a dragonoid yarkiokkajj.

Ahsoka felt a thrill of pride and something more…she shook her head. She would have to think about that later. With a smirk, she raced after her friend.

Ilaria lounged in her bunk, Salt in her lap while the boys romped out in the hangar, harassing techs and pilots who were still up. She poured over the datapad, learning everything she could about Ryloth, Moff Mors, and Cham Syndulla.

She found that not much about the planet interested her, save for the red and orange stoned canyons the datapad described. She was also curious about the battles fought there during the Clone Wars, but didn’t want to bombard Ahsoka with questions that were merely curiosity about the past.

Mors, on the other hand, was a far much more interesting read. The woman had lost her wife in a transport accident a few years prior, which seemed to have spurred her drinking, spice-usage, and partying behavior. Yet, she still somehow managed to get promoted to the rank of Moff.

“You don’t care anymore,” Ilaria murmured, staring at the face of her target. She had a feeling that the woman would not turn out to be the ally Bail hoped she would. She hoped she was wrong, but she rarely was when it came to such things. Only when she met Mors would she know for certain.

The palace and command center, on Ryloth’s largest moon, was equally heavily fortified and luxurious. Mors’ main taste in slave-servants was green twi’lek women, but during parties she was known to bring in entertainers of other species. It was common to have pretty females of various species to wander around parties, acting as eye-candy and easy conversation for any who wished it—possibly more, depending on the woman, and the party. It was one of these such women whom Ilaria was supposed to be.

When she finally found the information on Cham Syndulla, it confirmed everything Ahsoka had already told her. The man loved his home deeply, more than anything. She was surprised to find that he had been married, and had a daughter, although there was little information listed about her. She was only fifteen standard years or so.

“Sleep is important too, you know,” Ahsoka’s weary voice grumbled from the bottom bunk.

Ilaria’s chest tightened, and she found her voice annoyingly hoarse, “Only a little.”

Even so, she dutifully turned off the datapad and slid it under her pillow. She pulled Salt as close as she could without getting pricked by her rapidly growing crystal coat. She determinedly closed her eyes, but it was useless. All around her she could feel the Force and the other beings. The handful of rebels in the cave, all sleeping save for two. The vulptices further within the mountain, nursing their pups. And, the mountain itself, the planet…but it was those around her that kept drawing her back.

The minutes wore on, and Ilaria only found herself growing more restless. The energy around her wasn’t soothing. It was feeding her, charging her up like an ion battery.

Deciding that she could no longer lay in her bunk, Ilaria nudged aside Salt (whom slept like a kilo of permacrete). Using the Force to lighten her landing so she wouldn’t wake Ahsoka, she slipped from her bunk and retrieved her lightsaber from its hook on the wall. Clipping it onto her belt, she made her way off the ship, inwardly cringing at every noise and praying that Ahsoka wouldn’t wake. Or, if she did, that she would just roll over and go back to sleep.

This was something she had to do alone.

The hangar was black. Her eyes stretched wide as they attempted to find something definable, but were only greeted with an indefinite sheet of darkness. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would feel like to be buried in the mountain’s caves, and thought it would be a terrible way to go.

And yet, the darkness did not unsettle her. Quite the opposite, really. She felt like she was wearing a cloak that made her invisible. She could breathe easily and walk without being watched, something that she had rarely had the luxury of ever since she reached womanhood. And when she did have that luxury, it was always in the shadows cast at night by the low Resort Town buildings. Except in the hangar cave, there was no shadows. It was always simply black.

It pleased her.

With the Force as her guide, she navigated to the back of the cave where the smaller tunnel systems began. There was no question of her path. Despite how far she was buried, she could already feel the route to the surface high above.

Something was calling her, she could feel that much now. Something was pulling her forward.

Some of the tunnels were so small that she had to get on her hands and knees and crawl through them, and others so large her footsteps echoed.

Some time into her journey, she came to a split in the tunnels, and for once, her direction was not clear. The tunnel on the right led to the mountain surface, that much was sure. The one on the left loomed uncertain and yet, it stopped her.

 _Go_.

The voice rang in her ears, loud as a proximity alarm in the silence of the tunnels.

Deciding on the left, she rushed forward, practically running. She was getting close. She could feel the air ahead.

Her path sloped steeply downward. The Force kept Ilaria steady on her feet as she slid down the tunnel, which came to an abrupt end in open air.

Panic flared through her, but she pushed it aside and reached out. There was open air and below that…water. It was safe.

For one glorious moment, she was suspended in the air. Around her were the walls steep grey walls of the gorge, towards the star-scattered sky. And then she was falling, plummeting towards the dark, silky river below.

The Force buffeted the speed of her fall, but the icy water still stung her skin as it swallowed her. Her feet touched the sandy bottom, which she used to propel herself up to the surface. Shivering, she swam to the bank and pulled herself up onto the bloody sand, colored black in the night.

There, she laid, gasping for breath and letting the chill of the night air seep into her bones. It energized her. She pulled herself to her feet and her hand went to her lightsaber, it’s weight already familiar and reassuring.

The river extended as far as she could see on either side, vast and unfamiliar. It wasn’t particularly wide, and she could jump the banks in one Force-assisted leap if she wanted. Above, the stars shone brightly, giving Ilaria all the light she needed to follow the water.

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice called from behind her. The same voice from the caves.

Ilaria whipped around, her hand going once more to her lightsaber.

Before her stood a young Mirialan woman, dressed head to toe in dark robes. Her skin was grey in the moonlight, but she had a series of triangles tattooed across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were dark and illegible.

“Who are you?” Ilaria demanded.

“A shadow from the past,” the woman answered. “My time has come and gone.”

“Obviously not, and that’s not a name.”

A grim smile passed over the Mirialan’s expression. “My name is Barriss Offee. I was once a Jedi padawan.”

“Once?”

“I saw the Jedi Order for what it had become,” Barriss answered darkly. “Servants of the dark side and a corrupt Republic.”

“You’re gone,” Ilaria realized. “You’ve rejoined the Force.”

“Yes.”

Ilaria’s mind reeled, and she realized now was not the time to process everything she was hearing. Now was the time to gather information. “How are you here? You should be gone.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” said Barriss. “And you have a gift with memories.”

“Does that mean you’re someone’s memory? How does that work?”

In response, she only smiled, which thoroughly irritated Ilaria. She then noticed that the smile was sad, grieving, even. “In the end, all we are is memories.”

And then, she vanished.

Ilaria wanted to scream, except she wasn’t really one for screaming, so she settled for a deep growl of frustration that scratched her throat and echoed through the gorge. This was going too far. People’s memories were crawling out of their heads and leading her on wild blurrg chases, apparently.

Her legs shook with exhaustion, or was it the cold? Either way, she knelt in the cold sand, and frustration gnawed at her bones.

She felt gross. She tried so hard to avoid looking into people’s minds, to avoid invading their privacy, their souls, and now, they were coming to her! There was no escaping it.

_All we are is memories._

The words echoed in her ears, rolled around in her mind. _All we are is memories._

An eerie calm settled over her as she considered those words, silently repeating them to herself over and over. She felt like she was standing in the hull of an unfinished ship, seeing durasteel plates that weren’t even there yet.

 _The Force guides us_ , Ahsoka always said.

 _Where is it guiding me?_ Ilaria thought with a twinge of dismay, which only increased as she realized who’s memory she must have just met.

Ahsoka sat at the little table in their ship, mulling over the events of earlier while she waited for Ilaria to finish up in the refresher. She had heard her friend leave for her nighttime walk, and sensing her want to be alone, decided not to pry. Except, when morning came, and Ilaria had not returned. Instead, her presence in the Force was distant and uncertain. Resisting the urge to search for her, Ahsoka had followed her instincts and waited.

The sun was high in the sky before her friend returned, shuffling in through the main hangar door, dark circles etched under her eyes. Her hair was tangled, her clothes damp, and red dirt clung to her, streaks running across her face that held a disturbing resemblance to blood.

She ignored everyone that inquired about her, and only gave Ahsoka a weary greeting before heading to the refresher. She had drawn within herself, the Force surrounding her like an impenetrable fog, making her nearly impossible for Ahsoka to read—not that she was very easy to read, anyways.

And so Ahsoka waited.

Finally, Ilaria exited the fresher with only towel wrapped around her body, her hair slick and brown from the water that still clung to her. Without looking at Ahsoka, she sat down on the opposite side of the table and said, “I’m sorry for disappearing last night.” Her eyes were stormy, troubled. Exhaustion seeped from her.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” asked Ahsoka.

Ilaria’s eyes narrowed, and she stared at the table top for a full minute, her hair dripping water on the metal. Her gaze flicked up to meet Ahsoka’s, “I…I don’t..” She let out a growl of frustration, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “You said that as my training progressed, my proficiency in the Force would progress.”

Unsure of where the conversation was going, Ahsoka said, “Well, generally, yes. What happened?”

Water still dripping from her wet hair, Ilaria sighed. “I don’t think my dreams are the only thing we need to worry about anymore.”

They had still not been able to find a solution for Ilaria’s dreams beyond the sleeping medication she took. As she progressed and learned different meditation techniques, Ahsoka would suggest she try going off the medication, and it would seem to work for a few days. But, without fail, Ilaria would start having dreams again, and she would have to resume her medication.

“Ari, I can’t help you if you do not tell me what is going on.”

Another sigh. “How insane would it sound if I said that I think people from other people’s memories were visiting me through the Force?”

 _Pretty insane_ , thought Ahsoka. Maybe hallucinations were a side effect of the sleeping medication. “Who did you see?”

“A girl who claimed to be—used to be—a Jedi padawan. She said her name was Barriss Offee.”

The name struck Ahsoka like a slap across the face coming from Ilaria, whom she had never told about Barriss. She wondered if Bail had told her about Barriss, or maybe she had heard about her from an old news holo, and yet…

A mixture of sadness crossed Ilaria’s face. She ran her hands through her hair, working her fingers through the knots and avoiding Ahsoka’s gaze. “She came to me last night. I…I don’t know what to make of it.”

“She came to you?” Ahsoka repeated quizzically, somewhat dazed by the revelation. “What do you mean?”

“Down by the river,” Ilaria sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. “She…something led me there. And then she was there, standing before me as real as you are now. She…said that she was once a padawan, and that she had seen darkness in the Jedi and the Republic.” Ilaria went back to combing her hair. “I…she said that she was a memory. I…Ahsoka…I don’t understand. How is this possible?”

“Sometimes, those sensitive with the Force can see the past or the future,” said Ahsoka, thinking aloud. “Perhaps with you, it is stronger.”

Ilaria let out another growl of frustration, the Force around her thickening like an Xeroianjj fog. “You don’t understand. I’ve seen people’s memories before. This wasn’t just some memory. There wasn’t any…static. She was standing in front of me, talking to me. Memories are different…they’re…kriff I don’t know how to explain it. I just know this wasn’t a simple memory. I’ve never had a memory speak to me before.”

Ahsoka did something that surprised even her: she reached out and took one of Ilaria’s hands in her own. “We will figure this out,” she said gently. “You need to rest. You can’t think clearly when you’re exhausted.”

The fog in the Force cleared slightly, and Ilaria deflated with a sigh. “You’re right.” She gave Ahsoka’s hand a small squeeze and pulled her own away, immediately rubbing the back of her neck. Her cheeks appeared to flush, but that may have been from the hot shower. Humans were so sensitive to temperature, and Ilaria favored unusually hot water showers.

“Uhm, but first, can you tell me what she did? I can see it written all over you.”

“She fell,” said Ahsoka grimly, feeling her sadness and the memories wash over her like water. They were fresher, more vibrant, as if she was just a doorway away from stepping back into them. She saw Barriss the first time she had met her, on Geonosis, and then the last, in a Republic holding cell after her confession to the Temple bombing. She could still feel her old friend’s anger, her hatred and malice that had caused her to turn on everyone.

She had come to find that that was another side effect of Ilaria’s presence in the Force: more detailed memories. It could be both a blessing, and a curse.

“She was my friend,” she remembered solemnly. “And the perfect padawan. The war changed her. She…she saw the Republic for what it had become, what we did not see it at the time. She saw that the Jedi had become servants of the Sith while the rest of us were still blind to it.”

Ahsoka was back in that court room, surrounded by the faces of those that were ready to damn her for a crime she didn’t commit. She could see Palpatine’s concerned, firm expression as he was ready to read the verdict that she knew was guilty, the sorrow in Padme’s eyes. And then there was the shout—Anakin’s shout—as he brought forth the real criminal: Barriss, handcuffed and caged by the yellow energy of the Temple Guards’ lightsabers. Her defiance, her fear, her contempt.

“Instead of going to someone—the Council, her Master, she decided to bomb the Jedi Temple,” Ahsoka continued, the words sand in her mouth. “She took innocent lives to prove a point, and framed me for the murders.” At this point, Ahsoka was almost sure that the words were unnecessary, that Ilaria was seeing the memories as clear as she was. Nevertheless, she went on, “They were all ready to condemn me for murders I did not commit. I was expelled from the Jedi Order, and put on trial. It was Anakin that found out Barriss. Afterwards, the Council invited me back into the Order…”

Ilaria’s brows were furrowed deeply, her expression dark. “But you couldn’t go back.”

 _I should have_ , Ahsoka thought. _I should have never left._

“I’m sorry to…to ask about your past like that,” said Ilaria, and then tentatively, “I can give you something else to think about right now, if you want?”

Ahsoka’s mind raced as she tried to figure out the meaning behind Ilaria’s words, but she was coming up blank. Well…except for one thing…She was aware of her lekku flushing.

“No, I mean literally,” Ilaria said hurriedly, her cheeks definitely turning rosy as she undoubtedly followed Ahsoka’s thoughts. She offered Ahsoka a hand. “Just, open your mind and trust me.”

It was her tone that got to Ahsoka, raw with fatigue. Her presence in the Force was suddenly clear, calm, an eye in the center of a rolling storm.

“That’s a high request,” said Ahsoka, placing her hand in Ilaria’s. She closed her eyes and opened herself up to the Force, feeling, becoming everything around her. She was the meatal hull of the ship that vibrated as the latest trio of X-wings returned from their patrol flight. The pups begging for scraps in the mess hall were a part of her, as much as the mountain around them reverberated into her being. And there was Ilaria, a deep cloud in the middle of her ship, charged molecules that swept her away.

All of those sensations were pushed aside with a gentle breeze, and Ahsoka was instead high in a clear blue, sunlight sky. She was suspended above a lush green canopy of treetops, green leaves glittering like a sea of emeralds in the warm sunlight. A wind shifted the leaves, softly brushing her cheeks and bringing the oddly comforting scent of salt mixed with sweet mud. She was happy, and an inexorable sense of peace washed over her.

The scene faded slowly, giving way to the sensations of the hangar around her once more. The happiness stayed, though. She could still feel the sunlight, the breeze.

Long after Ilaria had gone to take a nap, Ahsoka sat at the common room booth, thinking. In truth, she wasn’t quite sure what to think. It seemed that a figure from her past had strolled right out of her memories and into Ilaria’s mind. No—more than that: into reality. Something, Barriss, had not just visited Ilaria in her mind, or if she had, she had done so to lure her kilometers away from the base. And she had spoken to her.

How?

Ahsoka had always been taught that death was rejoining the Force. So, Barriss had rejoined the Force, part of its entity, swirling all around her. The thought was comfortable at first, but she quickly accepted it as the way of the Force. Things began and ended independently of their relation to herself. Barriss would have rejoined the Force no matter what she had done. It was the way of the universe.

Moving to the floor and crossing her legs, Ahsoka closed her eyes and meditated. In the other room, she could feel Ilaria, whom had already fallen into a deep slumber. She focused on her friend, feeling the rise and fall of her breath. Then, she focused inwardly on her memories of Barriss, accepting the pain and regret that came with the later, and then letting it flow away like a river.

_A river._

The idea coursed through her mind, pulling her along. Energy flowed, it moved. The Force was never still. It did not stop. And Barriss did not stop. She was not simply frozen in Ahsoka’s memories: she was still fluid. She existed as not only an image of the past, but as a part of the Force. And for Ilaria, the two had combined.  
The pieces began to pull themselves together, a theory building itself in Ahsoka’s mind. A theory, for the moment.

The next day, the items Ilaria had requested for her disguise arrived in a small backpack. As she unpacked it, she examined the products with evident admiration and excitement. “Only a senator could get their hands on stuff like this. Or someone rich. Someone who doesn’t have to worry about funding,” she noted to Ahsoka, pulling out the red silken dress and admiring it. It was the same dark red as blood.

She then produced from the bag a few small jars, a brush, and two small bottles. Ahsoka recollected the small jars and brush (from her days of working with Senator Amidala) to be face paints and powders, but the two latter bottles left her befuddled.

“What are those?”

Ilaria held up the bottles and inspected them closely with a satisfied smile. “Something for those of us inflicted with hair,” she said. “It’s dye. I don’t intend to go to this event looking like myself.”

“That is wise,” said Ahsoka, picking up one of the makeup jars and studying it. She had to admit, one advantage humans had was how easily they could change their appearance without having changeling powers. “Where did you learn about all of this?”

“I was an entertainer for three years. If there’s one thing I do know in this galaxy, it is how to make myself into someone I’m not.” She moved to the refresher, where she had mounted a small mirror on the wall, and opened one of the bottles, inspecting the contents with a twitch of her lip. A chemical smell wafted through the air. “Not that I’m the biggest fan of everything entailed with it.”

She then poured the bottle into her hand and began working it into her hair, starting her fingertips at her skull and working her way down. The color was a dark, ruddy brown, and Ahsoka was once again reminded of Senator Amidala.

“How long will the dye last?”

“Hopefully not longer than a week or so,” Ilaria answered, pouring more of the thick solution into her palm. “If Bail managed to get the right stuff, that is. But I have faith in Breha’s guidance.”

Ahsoka smiled despite herself, leaning against the doorway and watching the routine with mild curiosity as the brown dye soaked into Ilaria’s gold hair. Her friend rarely put much attention into her hair, brushing it only at night and rarely trimming it, but what little attention she did devote to it always seemed to be perfect. When she left it unkempt, it was a golden mane, and when she braided it, a golden crown.

One night, Ilaria had caught Ahsoka watching her braid it, and invited her to try. Ahsoka promptly learned that braiding hair was more difficult than it looked, and as much art and practice as anything else. And yet, Ilaria did it without looking. Once, she had even braided her hair while running. It was an odd skill to respect, but Ahsoka found that she did. The other Rebels with hair seemed to respect it as well, with Bail even once noting her braids to be ‘up to Alderaan standards.’

“You’re staring at me,” Ilaria noted. Her tone was light, as she looked at Ahsoka through the reflection in the mirror, her fingers never stopping their work. She already had a third of her hair done.

“I am going to miss the gold,” said Ahsoka.

“It’ll be back soon enough,” Ilaria assured her, and adding a mutter of, “Force willing.”

Ahsoka raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound very confident.”

“Confidence is for those with no hair to lose.” She made a face, and when she went on, her voice teasing, “Maybe that’s why you’re so confident.”

“I’m sure that’s what it is,” said Ahsoka, matching her tone. “Why not just cut your hair off, then?”

Ilaria paused. “Actually…I’ve never considered that before… do _you_ like being bald?”

“More than anything,” said Ahsoka, as if she had ever had hair before.

“Hmm I’ll consider it then if this brown never comes out.”

They had not spoken of the Barriss incident since the previous day. The heavy conversation seemed simultaneously far away and unbearably close.

Ahsoka reflected that she had never had anyone to speak to so openly about her past since the rise of the Empire, save for Bail. There was a difference between discussing it with him and discussing it with Ilaria, though. With the latter, she could be more personal. She could open herself up, and forget the discussion in terms of politics and plans: she could simply discuss how it felt. That truth made her much more…comfortable around Ilaria, and, over the months, the silences between them had become a quiet companionship, and not a mere lack of words.

And so they sat in a comfortable quiet while Ilaria finished applying the dye to her hair and carefully applied it to her eyebrows. By the end of it, she looked like a womp rat that had been shaved and rolled in mud, which was what Ahsoka told her.

“Thanks, I have always aspired to be some sort of large rodent.” She then flashed a wickedly sweet smile. “Give me an hour and you’ll be eating your words like an old ration pack.”

She was right.

When Ilaria had finally washed the dye out of her hair and dried it, the difference was astonishing. The brown was warm, with reddish tones that brought out the green in her eyes, reminding Ahsoka of a sunlight forest.

“Do I look like a womp rat now?” Ilaria inquired, tousling her new locks.

She certainly did not, and Ahsoka found that she had trouble telling Ilaria exactly how she looked at the moment.


	19. Chapter 19

The matter of getting into the party at Moff Mors’ palace was a simple matter of Ilaria being at the right place at the right time, and smiling at the right person. In this case, it was the whelp responsible for picking up the night’s entertainment from a town on the planet’s surface called Sareen Ruti by the locals. Apparently, it meant “sweet water,” which Ilaria found to be wildly ironic as the town, much like the rest of the planet, was hot orange sand.

The town stood at the mouth of one of the Ryloth’s many canyons, the buildings carved out of the walls at the bottom of the canyon. Everything was colored red and tan, even the cloth shanties on the rooftops and allies. It was a rather large town, and Ilaria vaguely wondered if it was considered a city. She decided that it wasn’t.

It hardly mattered, she reflected. It was just a point for her to be picked up and retrieved from. Or so that was the plan.

Ilaria soon found herself crammed onto a transport with a bunch of beautiful twi’lek women and a handful of humans. She found the lack of diversity to be strange. The others were also garbed in deliberately cut, flattering outfits—part of the job. It felt like staring at home through the lens of some strange dream.

They were flanked by the annoyingly clean, white plastoid and sightless masks of stormtroopers. The troopers held their guns at fraction less than ready, and Ilaria could feel their relaxation. This was another meaningless task to them, but at least a pleasant one. The trooper closest to her stared as if she were a piece of meat and he were a starving terrorvore. His mind was simple, and she vaguely considered making him choke on his own thoughts.

Now, she did not try to hide the subtle whims and thoughts the Force in others radiated out to her. Their thoughts played like music, running through her mind as a massive symphony. The stormtroopers were all rigid and eerily similar, uniform. She wondered if it was due to their training, or merely due to everyone wearing the same white bucket. The women around her were different, their songs and thoughts more distinguished, more colorful. The twi’lek next to her thought of her son, and the one on the other side of her hoped only that those whom groped her that night would at least be handsome. Their stories were so simply etched before her, so easy for her to hear, that Ilaria appreciated just how much closer she had grown to the Force in the last few months. She was a part of them as much as they were a part of her.

Up front, the pilots joked about how they were doing their duty, protecting the galaxy by transporting a handful of women to a party. The sarcasm made Ilaria smile inwardly, and she wondered if they were right.

She had nothing on her: no weapons, no comm link. They had been deemed too risky in case she were searched, and so a small backpack with her comm link and a change of clothes had been stashed on a rooftop in town. They were to be retrieved after she was dropped back off by Mors’ goons. Her lightsaber had remained on her and Ahsoka’s ship, also being deemed too much of a risk to carry.

“Prepare for landing,” one of the troopers said, and the rest of his comrades grabbed durasteel support rails that hung from the ceiling.

None of the women cargo dared get close enough to the stormtroopers to grasp the overhead hand rails, so they did their best to keep balance. Those that were friends held hands.

The landing was rougher than usual, and despite their best efforts, one of the human women stumbled. She had beautiful, thick black hair as shiny as polished obsidian, and skin as warm as a Ryloth day. Her Basic was thickly accented as thanked Ilaria for helping her up, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Ilaria only replied with a nod, not trusting the flair of anger that coursed through her as sensed the humor that rippled through the watching stormtroopers.

They were herded off the transport and onto a large landing platform outside a massive, lavish palace. A dark green female twi’lek woman in a revealing grey bikini was waiting for them, stormtroopers flanking either side of her.

“My name is Cori’na,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, her Ryloth accent thick. “I am the head servant of the household, and while here, you will do everything I say. Follow me.”

And they did, with stormtroopers flanked around them.

As they walked, Cori’na continued her flat instructions, “Your only role here is to please the guests. If a guest wants you to speak with them, you speak with them. If they want you to dance for them, you dance for them. If they want you to get them a drink, you get them a drink. Is this understood?”

A murmur of assent rippled through the group.

The party primarily took place in a large, beautiful courtyard. The centerpiece of the courtyard was a massive brazier of blackened durasteel that was fashioned in a way that resembled thorns. Or horns. Or claws. Ilaria supposed that it was up to interpretation. Either way, red and yellow flames lapped the air: hungry, mesmerizing, dangerous.

Polished grey stone extended from the brazier, forming a circle around the fire. Around the circumference of the circle, small pathways extended out into the gardens, which were full of lush green plants that Ilaria could only dream of naming. Tables, plush lounges, and chairs had already been laid out. Mors’ private array of green twi’lek female slaves were already waiting in outfits identical to the one Cori’na wore. The Moff herself was still nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only presence in the courtyard was stormtroopers, servants, and a Bith band suspended on a platform high above the gardens. They were instructed to wait and act natural as the guests began to arrive.

Per normal Imperial human-centric attitudes, the party guests were mostly human, with a few humanoids speckled in the mix. Ilaria found all of her holovid studying coming in handy, as she recognized most of the other species present. She also found that all of her meditations were paying off, because even in the chaos of the party, she was able to read those around her like a youngling’s Basic.

There was a blue-skinned, red-eyed Chiss woman that lounged like a queen, a small crowd of men already crowding around her. She was bored, and was hardly listening to the men that spoke to her, instead opting to stare into the fire. She twirled her drink in her hand, taking small sips. A trio of Pykes conversed with a feline Zygerrian while his counterpart eyed a nearby twi’lek with appreciation. They discussed small business, each subtly bragging about the success of their scummy ventures (primarily spice and slavery, respectively, although, the slavers seemed to be making better business).

The humans, mostly men, seemed like a sea of indistinguishable continuity in comparison. Some of them sported haircuts, stiff manners, and impeccable, unoriginal clothes that were indicative of Imperial service. A few bit did not. They were dressed classily, with the subtle crispness and shine that indicated money. When they spoke, they smiled as if the universe was a flower in full bloom. War mongers.

Something about the war mongers…something in her subconscious ticked, a pin to be revisited later, like a saved HoloNet story, an interesting article to be read later.

Ilaria noted them all with care, spending most of her time slipping through the crowd, smiling, and flirting. Yes, it was quite like home. Each time she was groped, she had to grit her teeth and clench her fist and pretend everything was fine and resist the urge to deck the offender in the face. Yup, just like home. She was grateful that they had been wise enough to not try to hide a weapon or communicator on her. That would have been awkward to explain.

The thought made her mind wander to earlier, when she was getting ready to leave for the mission: they had stood in the freighter, and Ahsoka had studied Ilaria critically.

 _You look too nice_ , she had said. _They won’t think you’re just a poor girl looking for work_. Her over-eye white markings knitted together, and her dark lips pouted slightly. She was worried, and she was trying to hide it.

 _I look perfectly nice_ , Ilaria had responded. _Nice enough to get noticed, but not nice enough to be mistaken for a lost princess._

That much was true. The dress was simple, but flatteringly cut low in the chest, high in the thighs, and practically nonexistent along her back, cutting as low as the dimples on the back of her hips. The red was deep and noticeable, but the fabric lacked sheen or embroidery that would have indicated wealth. She had let her hair stay down, and painted her lips a rouge and dusted warm pink tints on her eyelids to complete the look. It was an affordable, but still effective, ensemble for a woman entertainer. Well, except the temporary hair dye, but it’s not like anyone else knew that.

Ahsoka had frowned at that. _I’m not so sure about that. You look…_

Ilaria had laughed at that. _Just tell me that I look beautiful and get on with it._

There was a stark increase of the vividness of the striping of Ahsoka’s lekku, but the worry faded from her face. She merely smiled warmly and crossed her arms. _You are impossible and you look beautiful._

“Girl!” a voice shook her back to the present. “Another drink, strong this time!” The owner of said voice was a human man so old Ilaria seriously wondered how he managed to move. The two twi’leks serving him were preoccupied with fanning him as he lounged in his chaise.

“Yes, sir,” Ilaria said in a voice that she hoped wasn’t as chipped as she felt. She went back to her duty, and was still disappointed that the Moff had not made her appearance yet. Where was she?

The hours waned on, and still no Mors, and the guests were considerably inebriated, in one way or another. The music only grew louder, and the fire burned as brightly as ever, now an avoidable blaze in the dark of the night.

Ilaria used this dark to slink off onto one of the garden paths, walking softly in her leather sandals. The plants teemed with life, a reassuring sound buffer against the throng of people that huddled around the brazier. She followed the path, trying to figure out her next move.

What if Mors didn’t show?

Sure, Ilaria had learned much about the party guests, but they weren’t the main goal. They were the sweet fruit topping on an Alderaanian pastry.

She could try to venture into the palace, but that was risky. And, she didn’t even know the palace’s layout. One wrong turn and she could be done. And she had no way to get off the moon…

She rounded a turn in the path and was so deep in though that she very nearly ran into a middle-aged woman and her companion, a slightly younger man in a Imperial Colonial uniform. The woman wore an elegant black dress that shimmered like gems in the night, with a high collar behind her head like some sort of translucent, dark halo. Her face was stern and pale, beginning to line with age. Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat, stylish bun.

Stang.

Ilaria was face to face with none other than the Moff herself.

She dropped to her knee and hurriedly apologized, “I beg your pardon, my lady. I meant no disrespect.” She kept her head bowed, staring at the hem of Mors’ dress.

She could tell that Mors was not angry, but there was something fuzzy about her mental state that indicated inebriation. Yet, she managed to stand straight and look completely sober.

 _She wears it well,_ Ilaria thought with an odd admiration. She briefly thought of an Anacondan unhinging its jaws for prey slightly too large, setting itself up to choke on its own meal.

“Rise and stand so that I can study you properly,” Mors commanded. Her eyes glinted in the planet light as they studied Ilaria. “And who are you?”

Ilaria used her alias, “Eostre, ma’am. I am an entertainer brought from the planet’s surface. I am search of Lord Brice’s companion. He is in need of her presence.” She could feel the woman two paths over, flirting with a war monger much younger and more attractive than the one she currently had favor with.

Moff Mors regarded her coolly for a moment. “Someone else can run that errand.” She turned to her younger companion, “See to it.”

The colonel gave a curt nod and strode off in the direction they had come. There was something about his energy…

“Walk with me, Eostre,” Mors ordered, offering her arm.

Somewhat surprised, Ilaria accepted the woman’s arm and they continued down the path, a strip of silver in the dark, black fronds sometimes reaching out over it.

“You are not from Ryloth,” Mors noted. “Tell me, where are you from?”

“Eriadu is where I was born,” said Ilaria, keeping her tone light. “But I’ve spent time on many worlds in the Outer Rim. Seelos, Malpaz, Garel.” She allowed herself a bemused smile. “My mother liked to move around a lot.”

“No father?”

“Many fathers. None that lasted.”

Mors nodded, as if she expected this. “It explains your situation.”

Ilaria was unsure what to say to that. So, she went on for a few steps in silence. The fabric of Mors’ dress was coarse, and it irritatingly rubbed her arm. “May I get you anything, ma’am? Something to drink, perhaps?”

“Not yet,” said Mors. “If I require something of you, I will tell you.”

Further befuddled, Ilaria fell into silence and took the opportunity to carefully probe the Moff’s mind, which was difficult considering she was influenced enough to make her thoughts muddled. The woman gave off a supreme sense of self importance and grief. And, centered in her thoughts, was the image of another: a woman with brown hair and eyes as warm as her smile. Ilaria felt a rush of great love and of great pain.

She suddenly didn’t care if her mission succeeded, and it hardly seemed worth it to help the Rebels fight the Empire. All the mattered was forgetting her pain.

 _No_ , she thought sternly, silently chiding herself. She was somewhat horrified at the east the Moff’s thoughts had become her own. _Those are her thoughts. Not mine._

She was also suddenly aware of her instincts being right: Mors would not willingly helped overthrow the Empire. She didn’t care about anything except drowning her grief in fine clothes, drink, spice, and parties. It was all a distraction from her grief at the expense of those around her. And power within the Empire was the easiest means to that distraction. It wasn’t a necessarily surprising realization, but Ilaria saw that it was one she could work with. Mors wasn’t a fanatic.

Ilaria could sense the colonel coming back round the corner before he appeared, and when he did, she could feel the discontentment rolling off of him. “Lord Brice’s companion has rejoined him, ma’am.” He spoke curtly, and fell into step slightly behind them.

Mors didn’t even acknowledge him. She simply continued on her honeyed stroll, now angling for the center of the courtyard, where the party nested.

With a silent sigh, Ilaria closed her eyes and centered herself. She took in the sweet aroma of the gardens, laced with smoke from the fire and Mors intoxicating perfume. She took in Mors’ sadness and the colonel’s frustration as he stalked behind them, hands held behind his back.

“I could never grow tired of parties,” the Moff observed to her.

“I hope you never do,” Ilaria replied.

“What else do you hope for, Eostre?”

The question hung in the air, soft as the fur covering a nexu’s claws.

“Not many things, my lady,” she answered carefully. “Mostly beautiful sunrises and good friends and food to fill my stomach.”

“You don’t hope for your mother?”

“Not anymore. She passed of some illness.” As she said the words, Ilaria wondered if they were true. The image of her mother flashed through her mind, her not-quite-brown, not-quite-blonde hair, and her green eyes with the crinkles around them from smiling so much.

Mors nodded, the sadness within her spiking, and Ilaria knew she was thinking of her lost wife. “Loss is a burden.” She went on for a few steps in silence, the music swelling to fill it. “All we can do is try to forget it.”

“Indeed, my lady.” They were close enough to see the fire unobscured, it’s hot tendrils still stroking the air with affectionate hunger. “The fire is beautiful.”

The Moff gave her a sideways glance at the comment. But, Ilaria had pushed her luck perfectly, because Mors replied, “Fire cleanses the soul. Don’t you think so, Colonel Dray?”

Something in the young man’s demeanor ticked. Ilaria could almost feel his jaw clench. Oh, how he disliked Mors. “Yes, ma’am.”

They were in the circular party now, and the Moff was greeted warmly with cheers and claps. She detached from Ilaria’s arm, instructing her to follow with Colonel Dray. And so she did, taking up her spot beside the colonel as Mors went around greeting her guests. Soon they were also joined by Cori’na and another green twi’lek, the former giving the Moff a drink the color of bloody water. And so, their little entourage trailed after Mors like vulptice pups.

Ilaria did her best to remember each face and the gist of each conversation as if she were recording a holovid. She remembered the weapons contractors, the slavers, and the spice dealers. She also noticed that whenever some of the more…unsavory characters came forth, such as the zygerrian slaver admiring the twi’lek “servants” or the spice suppliers, Colonel Dray stiffened. Whenever Mors drank another drink, his molars pressed firmly against each other, imperceptible to anyone but Ilaria. If Mors’ operation were covered in armor, Dray was the soft spot at her throat.

The night wore on, and at midnight, the fire in the brazier suddenly turned a blazing white, and a series of cheers and exclamations of admiration rang out across the crowd. The orders for drinks and intoxicants increase exponentially, and as Ilaria watched the other servants dash between the bar and guests, she was grateful that she had been instructed to stay at Mors’ side.

That was, until Mors said that she would like to retire, but instructed Ilaria, Dray, and Cori’na to go with her. Sensing the change in her situation, Ilaria stood a little straighter and kept her face completely passive as she was led—no, herded—away from the party, her arm once again linked with Mors’, Dray and Cori’na trailing behind them.

She had worked enough parties, seen enough of sentients to know what was coming. She breathed easily, exhaling her dread with each breath. She had a job to do.

The walls within the palace were decorated and adored with art from various worlds, expensive and many were gifts. Dray’s boots and Mors’ heels clicked on the stone floors, and Cori’na parted from them first. Soon after, Mors’ dismissed Dray as well, and he hesitated, but followed his orders, seeping with disapproval.

Mors’ bedchamber was lavishly and comfortably decorated, the bed draped in curtains that reminded her of Tennille’s home in Resort Town. Ilaria reflected on the irony of her situation as Mors detached from her arm, and went to the window overlooking the courtyard, where the party still raged. She looked at the bed, and bit her lip, trying to figure out how in the galaxy she was going to get herself out of this one.

Cori’na entered the room, depositing a tray of drinks on a table in the corner. She didn’t say a word, but on her way out, Ilaria felt her pity, as if she were a womp rat in the mouth of a krayt dragon. The thought struck anger within her, which she quickly swallowed. There was no room for anger.

No, Ilaria had a job to do.

She went to the drink tray, fixed a drink that she hoped Mors would like, and brought it over to where the Moff stood.

Mors accepted the drink, and without tearing her gaze from the party below, said, “Tell me, why are servants always so quiet?”

Ilaria almost choked on her bitter laugh, which she quickly turned into a cough. In less than a second, she regained her composure. “I can be more talkative, if you would like, ma’am.”

Something about her answer seemed to disappoint Mors slightly, but Ilaria had expected that.

“Tell me a story, Eostre.”

“What kind of story, ma’am?”

That earned another sideways glance for Ilaria, this time one of more-so curiosity than anything else. “Any story.”

Ilaria thought carefully, and when she began, she spoke slowly, carefully, letting her words hang in the air, “Once, long ago, there was a king. He was a powerful, rich king, and he loved to build monuments to his kingdom. He would build statues, parks, and palaces in honor of his kingdom. He had a palace in every corner of his kingdom, and he would throw parades, give food to the poor, and hold the best parties the galaxy had ever seen.

“One day, there was a series of storms like no other throughout the kingdom. The oceans rose and swallowed kilometers and kilometers of land, the mountains crumbled and fell, and great earthquakes shook the palaces until they were no more than piles of stone atop the ground. The king was devastated, and after the fall of his kingdom, he spent his life wandering the land, searching for answers. He wanted to know why his kingdom fell.

“Finally, in the ruins of a mountain, he found a holy man with a painted face. He bowed in front of the holy man and asked him why the gods had punished him so, why they had destroyed his kingdom, destroyed his beautiful mountains and palaces and drowned his land in oceans. The holy man laughed and said to the king, ‘Because the gods are not bothered with the wants of stone civilizations. The gods tore down your kingdom so that a better one may be built upon the bedrock. Do not weep, for your beautiful palaces and statues will be replaced with the garden of the gods.’ The once-king wept, but with joy, as he realized what an honor it was, to have built the kingdom that would be the foundation for the garden of the gods.”

By the end of her story, Mors’ dark eyes bore down on Ilaria’s reflection in the transparisteel window pane, and Ilaria met them unwaveringly. There was a long silence, only interrupted by the clink of Mors setting her then-empty glass on the stone windowsill. She turned to face Ilaria, a small smile on her darkly painted lips, “That is a good story. Where did you learn it?”

“I do not recall,” Ilaria lied. She had made it up on the spot.

Mors studied her carefully. “You are rather smart for a servant.”

Ilaria blushed, and averted her gaze. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She knew what was coming, so Ilaria wasn’t taken by surprise when she felt Mors’ sharp, neatly filed fingernail on her chin, nor was she surprised when the Moff coaxed her gaze from the floor so that they were staring into each other’s eyes. Mors was considerably intoxicated, and she rather unsteadily leaned forward and kissed Ilaria, her lips dry from their false coloring, her round fingernails digging painfully into Ilaria’s skin as she pulled her closer.

A job. A mission.

Mors led the way over to the bed, and Ilaria carefully worked at the back of the expensive dress, until it fell to the floor and Mors moved to the bed, pale and exposed. Her eyes half-closed when she hit the pillow. She was really messed up.

Joining her, Ilaria kissed Mors gently, slowly, wrapping the intoxicated Moff’s mind in shimmersilk. Sleepy, relaxing, loving shimmersilk. Ilaria knew that Mors was not seeing her at all, but her dead wife, Murra. So, she simply altered Mors’ mental image a little farther, so that the Moff was lying in bed with Murra, sleeping…sleeping…

When she pulled her lips away from Mors’, the Moff was asleep, her mouth gaping slightly. Ilaria stood up, and let herself shudder before going about making the bed look a little messier, and pulling the blanket somewhat crookedly over Mors’ naked form.

She fixed her dress (one of the straps had slid down her arm), and went over to the drink tray, where she took a shot of whatever liquor was there, and shuddered once more. She was tempted to scrub her lips with salt. Her back stung slightly where Mors’ talons had drunkenly dug into her skin. She took another shot and went about examining the Moff’s room.

Unfortunately, Mors didn’t seem to keep her work where she played, as all Ilaria found was empty drinking bottles and an unholy amount of spice. Irritated, looked outside at the sky and guessed that enough time had passed for her to reasonably make an exit. She ruffled her hair slightly, and adopting a look of innocence, moved to the door and pressed her ear against it. Nothing. She sensed no life forms outside, either.

Quietly, she opened the door and slipped out. The door had hardly closed when Cori’na appeared from a doorway down the hall, marching forward with a stony expression. She led Ilaria away from Mors’ room, and into an adjacent refresher. “You have thirty standard minutes to ready yourself before you rejoin the party in the courtyard.”

The door shut, and Ilaria thought for a moment that she might cry. So, it was going to be one of those nights that never seemed to end.


	20. Chapter 20

When the transport finally touched down on Ryloth’s surface, Ilaria felt a rush of relief. She was intimately aware of everyone staring at the scratches on her back, but more importantly: she was exhausted. She could retrieve her backpack and meet her contact and then go home. The mere thought of her own bunk made her eyes droop.

Harsh sunlight met her eyes as the transport ramp lowered, and they were herded off. There was a sparse crowd waiting for them, undoubtedly the friends and families of the others. The twi’lek woman whom had been standing beside her on the trip up to the moon, knelt down to greet her son, his skin a pastel purple. Other hugs and greetings were exchanged, and Ilaria stood, a lonely ghost at the edge of the crowd, watching the happy reunions.

One old twi’lek woman, wrapped heavily in shawls and using a spare piece of pipe as a crutch, teetered through the crowd and to the transport. Her thoughts were on her granddaughter, and she was asking the accompanying stormtroopers of her granddaughter. They told her they didn’t know, and ordered her to step back, but she kept on her approach, smiling, thinking of her granddaughter…

The hair on the back of Ilaria’s neck stood up just in time for her to drop as an explosion rocked the earth.

When she came to, her ears were ringing, and she was flat on her back in the sand. In some places, it had rubbed her skin raw, and her head throbbed painfully. Shielding her eyes, she struggled to her feet and scanned her surroundings.

The shuttle was a smoking pile of flak, surrounded by broken and burning bodies. There was screaming, wails breaking the silence, as people clutched their injuries or the broken and bleeding bodies of their comrades. Ilaria looked at the ring of civilians, and noticed the little purple twi’lek boy, wailing and shaking his mother, who was on her back in a pool of blood.

Ilaria staggered through the thinned crowd over to the boy, and found that his mother was still alive, but barely. She was struggling to breathe, blood coming from her nose and mouth, a bits of metal lodged into her chest and belly. The boy, miraculously, was unharmed. He knelt at his mother’s side, attempting to drag her to her feet by the arm. He must have been six or seven.

“Shhh, let me look,” Ilaria told him, putting a gentle arm on his shoulder and kneeling next to the dying twi’lek woman. She knew. The woman’s eyes were unfocused, and Ilaria put the Force into her words as she spoke, her voice alarmingly calm, “Do you have any other family I can take your son to?”

The woman’s eyes struggled to focus on her, and through wet breaths she stammered, “No…just…me…please…”

 _Take care of him_.

She died, and the boy wailed.

The clock was ticking.

“Come,” Ilaria said to him, sweeping him off his feet. He was too traumatized to struggle, and merely sobbed in her shoulder. She ran out of the crowd and through the narrow streets, her arms burning from the weight of the boy, her legs burning from the speed. Sand ground itself uncomfortably between her toes, and she silently cursed her sandals. She found an unoccupied blurrg, and hardly pausing, threw the boy into the saddle and continued towards the edge of town, counting the rooftops until she found the one her backpack would be on. On the way, she also snatched a cloak and scarf from a clothesline.

Ordering the boy to stay on the blurrg, she scaled the rocky building to the second-story rooftop and retrieved her backpack, the same color as the clay roof. She jumped back down into the street, stumbling to her knees and leading the blurrg into an alley as she fumbled for her comm link. She needed to know where her contact was.

She tried them, but the transmission wouldn’t go through. She cursed, and pulled out her holodisk and quickly coded the secure transmission.

“ _Abort pick up_!” Ilaria’s hiss came across the comm dais, where the holo of the fulcrum symbol—Ahsoka’s own face markings—stood, illuminating them in a mocking ghostly blue light as they listened. “Someone bombed the transport. This place is about to be crawling with Imps. Repeat, abort pick up!”

Ahsoka stood perfectly still as she listened, years of training keeping her calm. How many transmissions like this had she heard? Too many to remember. And yet, this one made an abnormal nest of worry in her stomach. She forced herself to breathe rhythmically, feeling the Force around her, letting it guide her.

When she replied, her voice was calm, “Swamp Rat, can you find a way out?”

The reply took a few painful seconds to come through. “I’m not sure, Fulcrum. I’m working on it. There’s been an ah unexpected—oh, sta-“

The transmission cut to static, and the light indicating the signal connection went red.

Ahsoka looked at the sullustan tech monitoring the transmission, who was frantically working the controls. “What’s the status, Trap?”

He worked furiously for another standard minute before shaking his head in defeat, slumping his shoulders and his ears drooping slightly. “The signal is dead. The communicator must have been destroyed.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and let out a took a deep, silent breath, reaching out in the Force, letting the Force reach into her. She almost immediately felt a familiar storm far, far away, barely perceptible, and knew that Ilaria was still alive. The nest of worry building in her stomach melted slightly.

“She’s alive,” she said, eliciting a small sigh of relief among those surrounding her. “Can you get a transmission through to our Ryloth contact?”

It was a few minutes before a holo of Syndulla appeared, arms crossed and teeth bared in anger. He wasted no time growling accusations at her, “You idealists,” he snarled, “using the intelligence I provided to kill my people and then having the nerve to contact me!”

So, twi’leks died in the attack. It was worse than Ahsoka had thought. Who would kill Imperials and twi’leks on Ryloth?

“The bomb was not ours,” Ahsoka informed him, careful to keep her voice steady. “We’ve lost contact with our spy.” That news took Syndulla back for a moment, and he resided to an angry, thoughtful silence as Ahsoka went on, “All we know is that our spy is alive.”

“Better than their pickup,” growled Syndulla.

Ahsoka sighed. It was beginning to look more and more like Ilaria was on her own. She was tempted to remind Syndulla to pull anyone else he may have had stationed in the town, but he was a seasoned veteran. He knew the drill. “Please keep an eye out for our spy, code name Swamp Rat.”

Syndulla’s frown deepened. “Did you tell them where our base is?”

“No,” said Ahsoka, truly wishing that she had. “This was double-blind depending on pick up. Their on their own, but if I know them, there’s a good chance that they will find you.”

Still looking skeptical, Syndulla gave a curt nod. “If we find them, we will contact you. Syndulla out.”

The transmission ended.

Ahsoka found herself staring at the dais, resisting the urge to fly to Ryloth and find Ilaria herself. She wished that she had insisted Ilaria take her lightsaber, which was still safely tucked in their ship.

There’s no sense dwelling on it now, Ahsoka silently chided herself. Ilaria was smart and resourceful. She would find a way.

“What now?” asked Harland, who had remained quiet throughout the entire event.

Ahsoka said grimly, “We wait.”

That night, their bunkroom felt incredibly empty, and Ahsoka let the vulptice pups sleep in her bed. She laid awake a little longer than usual, wrapping and unwrapping the silver ribbon around her fingers.


	21. Chapter 21

Ilaria had saved the broken holodisk, the one that had been destroyed when the stormtroopers ambushed them in the alley, mid-transmission. She wasn’t entirely sure why she held onto it, considering how fried it was from the blaster bolt. She had ordered the boy to shut his eyes before she killed the two, using their own blaster against them.

The blurrg climbed the winding canyon paths with surprising agility, considering its odd shape and build. The twi’lek youngling, who’s name she still did not know, was in the saddle, clutching the pommel as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Ilaria sat behind it, one hand holding him in place, and the other clutching the back of the saddle. As they climbed, she occasionally had to use the Force to keep herself steady on the creature’s strange, curving back as it wound through the canyon.

She found herself missing the yarkiokkajj.

She had taken the tan scarf off her face and put it over the twi’lek youngling’s bright purple head, hoping to heal conceal themselves from any overhead ships. That was if they weren’t scanning for lifeforms. Hopefully they just assumed that no one would be stupid enough to try to flee by running into a canyon.

The blurrg’s rough, dry skin rubbed painfully against her legs, but she refused to take the time to stop and change. She instead tucked the cloak under her thighs and hoped for the best as the beast went on.

Time seemed to stretch and blur until she wasn’t quite sure how much had passed before the blurrg began to slow. This was just as well, because the poor youngling was slouching in the saddle for weariness, and Ilaria’s own hands were trembling with exhaustion. If she had to guess, she would have said that they maybe traveled forty klicks or so, but the warped and uneven edges of the canyon walls made her unsure. The only benefit to them was that they required good cover, and she often though that the rocky overhangs might help to conceal them. The sun was beginning to set as well, and soon they would be under the comforting cover of darkness. Ilaria hoped that there wasn’t any native predators that she would need to worry about.

Their mount began to pick its way towards the bottom of the canyon, where a pathetically small stream flowed. Still, it was water, and as they neared it, Ilaria’s mouth seemed to grow drier in anticipation. The blurrg stopped at the edge of the stream, standing perfectly still as Ilaria slid off it’s back and helped the exhausted youngling down, who landed so shakily she had to hold him up on his feet. Fresh tears were swelling in his violet eyes.

“I know this is hard,” Ilaria said kindly, kneeling down so that her eyes were level with his. “And it’s going to be hard for a little longer, but I’ll get us somewhere safe. I promise. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy nodded, using a chubby fist to wipe the new tears from his eyes as he mumbled, “Nestor.”

“It’s nice to meet you Nestor,” Ilaria said, taking one of his hands in hers. “My name is Ilaria. Why don’t we get some water?”

The blurrg, much ahead of them, was already up to its ankles in the stream (as that was the deepest point in the water), it’s massive head lowered into the flow of water. Making a point to move upstream of the beast, Ilaria followed suit, cupping her hands and bringing the sweet water to her mouth. Nestor followed her lead. After they drank, Ilaria went to work unsaddling the blurrg, being sure to give it copious thanks and scratches. “Please don’t go too far,” she asked the beast, reaching out with the Force to project her wishes.

The beast gave her one nudge with it’s gigantic head, as if to say, _Okay,_ and wandered away, nibbling at the spare shrubbery around the banks.

Nestor watched it all with a mournful silence, his grief a pool that she could feel just as easily as the sand beneath her. Ilaria offered him a ration from her backpack, but he refused. Deciding not to push it, she made a makeshift bed for him from her cloak of clothes, using the backpack as the pillow.

“Come lay down,” she instructed as kindly as she could, sitting in the sand beside the pitiful bed. “You need to sleep.”

He did as she asked, curling into a ball on the thin cloak and burying his face in the backpack. Exhaustion got the better of the little guy, and before long, his breathing steadied with slumber. When she was sure he was asleep, Ilaria reached out to him with the Force: have good dreams, she thought rather lamely. However, Nestor’s expression relaxed slightly anyways.

Satisfied, Ilaria stood and tiptoed her way to the stream. Night was fully upon them by now, and the sides of the canyons cast strange shadows in the moons light. Looking up at the moons and stars, Ilaria thought of how Ahsoka was somewhere out there, buried deep beyond the vast blanket of space. Light-years away.

The blurrg was dozing a few paces away, snoring surprisingly loudly. She didn’t know that blurrgs snored.

Double checking that Nestor was still in a deep slumber (he was dreaming of his mother cooking dinner), Ilaria stripped off her dress, which was ruined, and waded into the stream. She sat down at the deepest point, maybe a half meter deep, and let the refreshing water rush over her skin.

She really missed water.

Using the wet sand at the bottom of the stream, she scrubbed her skin clean. She even used some of it to scrub her face, and laid down once so that the cleansing water could sweep through her hair. When she was done, she followed the stream down a ways while she waited for her body to dry, examining the canyon. As she walked slowly, she closed her eyes and meditated, reaching out into the Force. She would have preferred to sit, but she was so weary that she feared if she sat, she would fall asleep.

Everything around her revealed itself, as if it had been waiting for her mind. The stream flowed on, growing narrower and disappearing into the ground before it went anywhere near Sareen Ruti. Rather amused, she reflected that after tasting the stream’s water, the name of the town made much more sense. Her humor faded quickly, though, as she focused in on the town. It was wracked with fear, the inhabitants hiding in their stone houses, many making a point to keep away from their windows and doors.

The streets crawled with stormtroopers, some patrolling with their guns ready while others carried away the bodies of the fallen natives and comrades alike. Ilaria was also surprised to recognize Colonel Dray’s signature, and even more so the man he spoke with. He was interviewing the stormtrooper she had knocked unconscious—the only one to directly survive the bombing.

Coming to a standstill, Ilaria concentrated on them, as their conversation played out in her mind:

_“-- not sure, sir,” the trooper was saying, rubbing the back of his head. “The bomber was a native—an old female with blue skin. She…she was asking about her granddaughter or her daughter—something like that. And then…the bomb went off.” He frowned, his confusion swelling. “After that, I don’t remember. My apologies, sir.”_

_“I see,” said Dray. “This was very likely a disgruntled family member of one of the slaves at the command center. Unfortunate, but it does happen.” His contempt for the Moff radiated strongly through his mind. He then addressed the rests of the stormtroopers around him, “Send out scouts to be sure, and clean up this mess. Patrols will be increased for two standard weeks.”_

_He made his way towards his own transport…_

Ilaria withdrew from the town, snapping her eyes open. Scouts. She imagined the floating, spider-like droids with giant eyes that she had seen holorecordings of.

They were far too exposed on the bank.

Deciding that she was sufficiently dry, she put on her change of clothes that had been in the backpack walked to the wall of the canyon. She placed her hand on the cool stone, suddenly aware of how much the temperature had dropped. Reaching out with the Force, she felt the rock. She let it absorb her, every crevice and stone. She reached out, searching for somewhere to hide.

A little ways upstream, there was a small divot in the wall—too shallow to be a cave. But, if she could move some larger boulders to cover them, well, it would be better than nothing. The thought of having to lift those boulders, even with the Force, made her want to cry.  
It had to be done.

She following the cliff until she found the indent she had sensed, and studied with the Force as much as her eyes, as in the night it was hardly more than a black shadow to her. It would be tight fit to get the blurrg in there too, but it would have to do. She examined the nearby boulders until she found a few that would do. She came to the first and closed her eyes, extending her fingers towards it and letting the Force consume her. “Please, be with me,” she pleaded to the Force, and then she lifted.

It took every bit of her concentration to move the boulder to wall, and when she finally set it where she wanted, she was panting. Granted, she hadn’t been able to lift boulders before she started training with Ahsoka, but it was still far from easy. Catching her breath, she moved onto the next boulder.

It took painfully long, longer than it should have, but by the time she was done, Ilaria had constructed a small hut from the boulders, with an entrance just big enough for the blurrg to squeeze through, and a boulder beside that ready to be moved to hide it. Relying on the Force to keep her on her feet and moving, Ilaria did her best to hide the indents in the ground from where the boulders had been, mostly moving the sand to cover them. She then woke the blurrg and picked up the slumbering Nestor.

As she expected, it was tight with the three of them in her makeshift shelter. The blurrg trusted her enough to be fine with the confined space, and even laid back down as she moved the final boulder to cover the door. Leaning her back against the animal’s warm hide, Ilaria pulled Nestor close.

“Please protect us,” she whispered to whoever could have been listening—the Force, native gods, the stones surrounding them--her stinging eyes already closing. In a matter of seconds, she was asleep.

It felt like she had only slept for seconds, but when Nestor nudged her awake, sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the rocks.

“Ilaria,” he whispered, “Where are we?”

“Safe,” she whispered back. “Be very quiet for a minute, okay?”

He nodded in understanding.

The blurrg’s large yellow eyes glowed in the dim light as it calmly watched Ilaria move to the “door.” She held out her hand and focused, using the Force to move the boulder aside just enough for her to fit through. Brandishing the blaster she had stolen, she carefully stepped out into the open, reaching out with the Force. She felt no other lifeforms, but as for droids…well, she was beginning to dislike them.

When she thought it was all clear, she stepped out from the shelter, and at the exact same time, an Imperial scout droid rounded the side of the shelter. The blaster bolt fried it before it could even process her presence, and it fell to the sand with a painful clang.

“Kriff,” cursed Ilaria. All she had done was buy them time. The Imperials would notice when their droid didn’t return.

New energy coursed through her.

“Nestor,” she called, “It’s okay. You can come out.”

The boy sheepishly emerged, his eyes going wide when he saw the smoking droid.

“It’s alright,” Ilaria assured him. “It won’t hurt you. I need you to step back for a few minutes, okay?”

With an open mouth nod, he did as she asked. This time, it was much easier for Ilaria to move the boulders. When the blurrg emerged, it stretched appreciatively, a strange motion for a beast shaped like a half-eaten fruit.

“How did you do that?” Nestor asked, wide-eyed with amazement.

Ilaria winked at him. “Magic. Now, let’s get moving.”

Ilaria found herself once again riding seated behind the saddle. Nestor sat almost limp in the saddle, and Ilaria couldn’t blame him. She kept one arm wrapped around his waist just in case he lost his balance or fell asleep while they rode on.

All she had told the blurrg was that she needed to find friends, and on a whim, had given her (for the blurrg was a female) the mental image of Cham Syndulla as best as she could remember it from her holovids. That was beginning to feel like a lifetime ago. However, the blurrg seemed to grasp her meaning, and it determinedly set off down the canyon, a destination she did not recognize in its mind.

The hours and later, the rotations, stretched on. Ilaria wondered if they made two-person saddles for blurrgs. She imagined that they didn’t.

They fell into a steady routine of riding during the day, and bathing and sleeping against the canyon walls at night, using whichever rocks Ilaria could find and move to shelter themselves. She didn’t have much in the way of rations, and so even those she had to budget between herself and Nestor. She gave the boy as much as she could, and only herself enough to keep moving. Even still, their supply was quickly running low. After all, only enough had been packed for one, and her pick up wasn’t supposed to take such an unlikely turn.

For some reason over the rotations, she found herself thinking of Ahsoka and the vulptice pups quite a lot. She wondered where they were. Her mind ran over her last transmission, and Ahsoka’s voice. The same thrill of happiness that she always felt when she thought of Ahsoka ran through her. She also missed her bed, and the way Ahsoka sometimes mumbled in her sleep, and she found herself thinking of the one night they had fallen asleep together after drinking pilots brew more than she liked to admit.

 _Stop_ , she thought sternly. _You need to focus on the here and now_.

Her lips began to crack and bleed, along with the pads of her fingers. She made a mental not to make sure balm was in her future backpacks. The bright sun made it difficult for Ilaria to see, and so she relied mostly on the Force to sense the planet around her. There wasn’t much besides sand and the occasional herd of blurrg far above at the canyon’s edge. Until, four rotations after they had set off down the canyon’s path, Ilaria felt a bumble of presences ahead. She detected eleven total, and from their life-Force signatures, twi’leks, ahead and around the next two canyon bends.

She had the blurrg stop two klicks away from where she felt the first presences, and with much more difficulty than she could ever imagine, created yet another stone shelter for it and the boy. She gave them stern instructions to wait, and at Nestor’s dismay, assured him that she would be back soon. Once they were well hidden within the red rocks, she set off at a walk down the canyon floor, still following the stream.

It was a kilometer before she met the scouts, so well concealed on the canyon wall that she couldn’t even see them, and it was only through the Force that she knew them to be there. She walked straight into their trap, holding up her hands in faux fright and turning as they dropped behind her, holding their blasters on her.

It was two males, with blue bodies and bared, pointed teeth.

“Why is a human wandering the bottom of a canyon alone?” one asked. He was wondering if their leader would be pleased to have found one human, and if Ilaria had coin on her.

Native raiders. Great.

“My blurrg succumbed to illness a few rotations ago,” she said, doing her best to look tired and weary. It wasn’t very hard. “Please, if you have any spare rations, I would be grateful.”

The two exchanged a humorous look and marched forward. “You’re coming with us.”

She took a deep breath and relaxed, exhaling into the Force around her and casually reaching for her blaster, which she had set on stun. Before the two twi’leks could get off more than one blaster bolt, which she easily dodged, she had them each stunned and lying in the dirt.

“Sorry boys,” she said, holstering her blaster and taking theirs as well. She stuck one on her other hip, and one behind her back, reflecting for the millionth time on how much she wished that she had her lightsaber. Hoping that they would stay stunned while she dealt with their companions, Ilaria marched on.

Her first though upon approaching the camp was that the raiders must have not been the best, because all they had to their name was a herd of blurrg (eleven to be exact) and two speeder bikes. There were nine twi’leks in the camp, and Ilaria surmised that two more watchmen were hidden farther up the canyon, opposite of the direction she had come.

They lounged under shanty tents without walls, playing games, going through saddle bags, and napping. That was, until she was spotted stumbling into camp, her hands held by her head. The shuffling of boots hitting the dirt and blasters being drawn simultaneously was almost musical. Ilaria was intimately aware of each blaster pointed at her, and completely unbothered. However, she made a show of cowering, her hands trembling as the leader approached her.

He was a twi’lek with dark pink skin that was almost red, and his eyes were certainly red. The leather head wrap he wore wrapped his lekku in complex crossings and knots, and his belt buckle shone silver. He sauntered up to her casually, and inquired, “What did you do to my men?”

“Men?” Ilaria repeated with surprise, her voice high-pitched and flimsy. “Please, sir, I saw no men. My blurrg passed a few rotations ago, please, I mean you no harm.”

He approached her, yanking the scarf from her cheekbones to expose her face, his dirty hands gripping her jaw and angling it up slightly so he could stare into her eyes.

Once, Ilaria reflected, such a thing may have made her angry. Now, it only seemed ignorant, almost pitifully stupid for him to get so close as he appraised her. He was too busy staring at her face to notice her hands slowly dropping back to her sides. That, or he simply didn’t care. Either way, it was a mistake. Even a few of his companions had already begun to lower their weapons, sneering and joking.

“You are not from here,” he murmured without letting go. “We rarely find off worlders in our canyon.”

Ilaria averted her eyes, or tried to while he had her jaw in his grip. “Please, sir, I am lost.”

His eyes bore into her a moment longer, and he grinned. “Not anymore.” He let go of her wrist and turning to the nearest twi’lek, a bright green male that was their newest recruit, “You! Go see what those two—”

Unfortunately, he didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Ilaria had sprung into action. She grabbed one of his arms, twisting it behind his back and using him as a shield as she drew one of her blasters and fired at the raiders. The Force guided her hand, and three fell before they even realized what was happening.

The raiders raised their blasters and started firing bolts back, despite their leader’s cries for them to stop. The problem was that they didn’t care about him, as long as they hit her. Even a few were hoping to hit him, and soon he dropped to his knees. By the time he hit the dirt, Ilaria had taken out two more raiders, leaving only three.

Red and green bolts flew at her, and she dodged with inhuman speed, letting the Force move her limbs for her, letting it aim for her.

The blurrg herd was in distress, trying to move away from the blaster bolts that flew, pressing themselves at the canyon walls, pacing the insubstantial fence that held them.

There wasn’t much for cover. Ilaria found herself truly appreciating all of Ahsoka’s lessons, and all the days she had spent running across knee roots on Xeroianjj. She didn’t stop moving, and the bolts were always a second too late for her, hitting the dirt or the hair where she had been only moments before.

For the millionth-and-first time, she wished she had her lightsaber.

Another raider fell and another, until it was just Ilaria and a light purple twi’lek. Silence fell over the camp, and they slowly circled each other. Her legs trembled, and she was breathing hard.

The twi’lek fired first, and she fired a split-second after, leaning to the side so that his bolt passed harmlessly by, while hers hit him right in the chest.

He fell.

Ilaria dropped her blaster in the dirt and stumbled to the stream, sticking her shaking hands in the cool water and bringing it to her lips to drink before surveying the damage around her. In reflection, there wasn’t much.

She felt the two last raiders, the watchmen that she had predicted were up North of the canyon, as they stumbled into camp, tense and awed, undoubtedly drawn by the sound of the fight. They had their trembling blasters pointed at her, but hesitated to draw.

Pulling the scarf back over her nose and mouth, Ilaria turned to face them, putting a hand on the blaster attached to her other hip. “Now, gentlemen, I will give you two options: one, we can call it truce and split up the supplies here, or you two can take a sand nap.”

They chose the latter, and fell to the ground, stunned.

Ilaria felt like she was deflating as she stood there, surrounded by the still twi’leks in the dirt and the blurrg, whom had stopped panicking and were regarding her with a wary curiosity.

“Sorry about that, guys,” she said to the animals. She then went around the saddle bags, gathering any which supplies may prove useful. She came away with a few weeks worth of rations, water bottles, a couple of blankets, and another scarf so that she and Nestor would each have their own. She also found a pair of leather gloves, and a few credits here and there. Oh, and an assortment of knives, daggers, and blasters, which she took her pick of (taking a small dagger, a medium-sized hunting knife, and two newer-looking blasters).

She spent a good deal of time, more than she should have, searching for a long-range communicator, but only found short-range. Truly, the worst bandits.

By the end of it, she stood at the edge of the blurrg pen with a full saddle bag and set of tack. She put her hand over the fence, closing her eyes and reaching out with the Force, feeling all the blurrg in her mind. A leathery head pressed itself into her palm, and she opened her eyes to see her new mount regarding her with large, disk-like eyes. She smiled, giving the creature a scratch on the chin. She decided, “I’ll call you Bo.”

Bo made a groaning sound that Ilaria took as approval.

After Ilaria retrieved Nestor and Jo, she had the boy cover his eyes with a scarf until they had passed the raider encampment, only letting him take it off once it was well out of sight.

That night, when they stopped at the bank of the stream, they ate more than their share of rations, and laid side by side on their blankets for a while watching the stars while the blurrg foraged close by.

“What’s flying like?” Nestor asked in his accented Basic, the stars making his skin glow in the darkness.

“In the stars or on a planet?”

He considered it. “Both.”

“Well,” said Ilaria, “On a planet it is exhilarating. Do you know what that means? It means that it is one of the happiest things you can do. You’re climbing and climbing and the entire time gravity wants to pull you down, but it hasn’t yet, and so you glide, suspended dangerously between gravity and space.

“In the stars, it’s weightless. You just…float, and all around you is everywhere you’ve been, and everywhere you could possibly go.” As she spoke, she gave the boy the sensation of flying on the back of a yarkiokkajj, plummeting towards the water, and then of the glittering expanse of space.

Nestor stared up thoughtfully. “If it’s dangerous to fly on a planet, why is it fun?”

It was a good question.

“Because,” said Ilaria, “Well, because it makes you feel alive. You know how boring it is to ride the blurrg through the canyon all day? It’s the opposite of that.”

The boy frowned. “I like Jo and Bo.”

“So do I,” Ilaria assured him. “But you have to admit, they’re not much for entertainment.”

Nestor laughed, his pointed teeth flashing, and returned to his silent study of the stars. But, Ilaria could read his thoughts, and she knew that he was dreaming about flying, about the weightlessness of space. She had to admit, the thought was appealing, and she stared at the stars long after his breathing had slowed and he drifted off to sleep. The sand at least made a soft bed, and she glumly thought of Ahsoka as she stared at the canyon walls, which turned the sky into a road of stars.

She had run out of sleeping pills two rotations prior.

Sunlight streamed through the open doors, and the walls were made of white stone. A curtain fluttered in the gentle breeze, and the room smelled like honey and lavender. Ilaria was in a large, soft bed of white sheets, watching blue water in the distance, listening as it lapped the shore.

Beside her, Ahsoka slept, her lekku longer, her face markings altered slightly, but still Ahsoka. Still, the same steady breathing, the same presence.  


Ilaria stood carefully, as not to wake her, and walked to the open balcony doors. The polished stone floor was cool on her bare feet, and the sound of the water outside grew louder. The breeze brought with it the scent of flowers.

She stepped onto the balcony, and was plunged into a twilight darkness, where the sky was still semi-blue, but all the stars and moons were visible. Perfect white lines traced their way through the sky, as if she were staring at a projection. The color changed, until the sky was the same soft yellows and pinks that make up a sunset. She turned, and Ahsoka was sitting up in the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she asked, “Why? _Why?_ ”


	22. Chapter 22

It had been twelve rotations since they had lost communication with Ilaria. Since the bombing, wrongly deeming it an attack on the Moff Mors’ life, the Empire had increased restrictions on planetary access for that quadrant for the time being, making it difficult for Ahsoka to simply go there herself. Through her deep meditations, she was able to tell that Ilaria was alive, or at least she was fairly sure of it. Beyond that, it wasn’t very easy for her to distinguish much.

She was meditating when Harland came running to her ship, jumping onto the loading ramp with such a fuss that the vulptice pups woke from their naps with their hackles raised.

“We have a transmission from Ryloth,” he breathlessly informed her, and seeing the hope on her face, immediately added, “It’s Syndulla.”

Sure enough, a holo of Syndulla was waiting for her. He greeted her curtly and jumped straight to business, “We have not seen your spy, but have an interesting report from the canyon connected to Sareen Ruti. Native raiders have been known to live in the canyons, and one clan of them was attacked two rotations ago. Most of the raiders were killed, and the survivors mentioned that it was an off-world human woman that attacked them.” His expression soured as he said those words, but he went on nevertheless, “However, it doesn’t make sense. They said that she approached alone on foot, but she was hundreds of klicks away from Sareen Ruti.”

Ahsoka stroked her chin thoughtfully, feeling a mixture of relief and worry. She had a feeling that Syndulla’s suspicion’s were right—Ilaria was traveling the canyon away from the town. What were the odds some other off-world female woman capable of taking on a clan of raiders alone, and winning? However, if she started the fights or not, Syndulla was not likely to take to kindly to her winning fights against the natives.

“She could very well by our spy,” she said at last. “I can assure you, that she would not have attacked unless provoked.”

He gave her a hard stare. “There’s a path leading up from the canyon floor a few day’s ride from where that camp was attacked. I’ve sent some of my people in that direction. With any luck, your spy will surface there.”

“Thank you. Your help is very much appreciated.”

Syndulla nodded. “Let’s hope your spy doesn’t feel _provoked_ by their presence.”

She thought of Ilaria, sand-burned and starving from weeks of traveling through the desert and privately, Ahsoka agreed. “Perhaps you should let your people know to speak first, and raise blasters second.”

The twi’lek’s lip twitched in what could have been the beginnings of a snarl. “Very well.”

The holo ended.

“Do you think it’s Ilaria?” Harland inquired the moment Syndulla’s image was gone.

“Yes.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? She’s alive!”

“Yes,” Ahsoka agreed. “It’s very good.”

And it _was_ promising, but her thoughts circled on Syndulla. Ilaria was hardly out of the line of fire yet. He was aggressively protective of his homeworld and his fellow twi’leks, and he had definitely not liked Ilaria getting into fights with them. And why had she? It was not like her to pick a fight unless she had to, and for someone of her abilities, sneaking past a camp of raiders should have been fairly easy.

Something wasn’t adding up.

She sent an encrypted transmission to Bail’s secure line, letting him know that they had an approximate on Ilaria’s location and then decided to go on a walk. At the mouth of the hangar, the vulptice pups were already waiting, as if they had known that that was where she would be heading next. Rock and Red were wrestling in the dirt, smearing each other red, and Salt sat patiently, her tail wrapped over her front paws as if it were tea time.

“I think we found your mother,” Ahsoka informed them as they started on their walk. The boys raced ahead, whereas Salt, always the subdued, merely trotted at her side. Their coats were starting to come in proper, chinking and rattling like glass as they gallivanted.

Ahsoka found herself taking the route that they had taken the very first day Ilaria had arrived on Crait, watching the pups skittering up the mountain with glee. She wished that she could still feel the Force-prints Ilaria had left on the rocks, but it was useless. That had been too many months ago, and even so, the wilderness had a way of absorbing Ilaria’s presence as if she were dew.

No matter how quickly she climbed, the pups always seemed to be ahead of her, snaking between boulders and through hidden passages. The boys didn’t bother to wait. They were having too much fun rooting around for small game, yipping happily. Salt, however, never strayed far from Ahsoka, and was often sitting on the next rock up, waiting patiently for her arrival before continuing up the mountain.

Ilaria had talked about the pups rejoining the pack when they were old enough, and they were certainly getting there, but Ahsoka had strong doubts that Salt would ever leave her mother. Whenever Ilaria was there, the pup was never far from her heels, and now that she was gone, Salt constantly seemed to be checking corners and beds for her. Most peculiarly, she would scamper up to each ship that arrived in the hangar, and sit like a crystal statue waiting for the occupants to unload. And, whenever Ilaria didn’t appear, she would sulk away, her tail dragging in disappointment.

“I miss her too,” Ahsoka said to the pup as she climbed. “You’re right. The ship feels emptier without her.”

Salt let out a yip of agreement, as if she understood every word, and leapt forward, licking Ahsoka on the nose as she tried to pull herself up the neck rock. She laughed, and scrambled after the pup.

The top of the mountain was still beautiful, and Ahsoka sat with the pups (now tired and sleeping on her lap), watching the horizon. A trio of X-wings flew overhead, off to run test flights and training maneuvers. Crait really was beautiful in a desolate sort of way, and Ahsoka found that it was hard to not have hope as she watched the fighters fly off into the horizon, the pups snoring on her lap.

They were slowly climbing back up the canyon. The path had presented itself a few rotations after the raider camp, and it had taken another two rotations for them to climb, slowly and steadily up. It was quite narrow, only wide enough to fit one blurrg across, and was often missing pieces where the blurrg had to leap across drops hundreds of meters tall. At first, Nestor squeezed his eyes shut and refused to look down, but by the second day, he was much more relaxed. Ilaria kept the expression of calm confidence for the boy’s sake, but privately, she was prepared to catch him with the Force if he happened to tip too far. She considered tying him to Jo’s saddle, but thought better of it in case the blurrg were to somehow fall as well. It was one thing to catch Nestor with the Force, it was another entirely to catch Nestor and Jo.

When they were finally nearing the top of the canyon, Ilaria sensed a six incoming lifeforms above them. She closed her eyes and focused, feeling the presence of three blurrg and their twi’lek riders. They were heading for the exact spot where the path met the surface above. She hoped that they would wait to come down it until her and Nestor made it topside.

She fidgeted with her blasters, making sure they were easily accessible and ready to go, pulling her scarf more securely across her face. She twisted in her saddle to look at Nestor. “There’s people waiting for us at the top,” she said just loud enough for him to hear. “When we meet them, don’t say anything, okay?”

The anxiety that swelled within him was almost immediate, and his bottom lip pouted in uncertainty. “Okay…are they bad people?”

“I don’t think so, but we want to be safe. Be brave, little one.”

They emerged over the crest of the canyon with one final leap of their blurrg, and came face to face with three armed twi’leks on their own mounts. Their blasters were out and aimed, and Ilaria resisted the urge to draw her own. If there was a firefight, Nestor would almost certainly be hit.

“What is your business?” demanded the head twi’lek, a dark blue male with sand-colored cloth laced across his lekku, creating a striking contrast.

“None that means you harm,” Ilaria called back. “Please, let us be on our way. We have been riding for many rotations, and are tired.”

Weapons still drawn, the head twi’lek reined his blurrg closer, and his companions followed his example. “A human with a twi’lek child,” he observed, his dark eyes going from Ilaria to Nestor. “How…unusual.”

“We mean you no harm,” Ilaria repeated, letting an edge creep into her voice. “Please, let us be.”

“Did you steal this child?”

Ilaria resisted the urge to grit her teeth. She briefly contemplated using the Force to make them fall asleep, but decided not to. She didn’t want to risk another Wrea incident. On the other hand, there was their blurrgs…

“Of course not,” she replied. “He is my ward.”

The leader then addressed Nestor directly, “Is that true, my child?”

Nestor glanced up at Ilaria and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The leader studied them for a few moments. At last, he declared, “You’re coming with us.”

Ilaria said, “With respect, we are not.” The two flanking twi’leks fingered their weapons, and she flashed with hot anger. She bared her teeth in a snarl, “You would fire on a child?”

“So, he is your hostage,” the twi’lek to her left, a pink woman, hissed. “Release him. If you don’t…well, I have a clean shot at your face.”

 _And I could break your mind like a datapad_ , Ilaria thought angrily. The blurrgs were responding to her emotions, shifting restlessly.

“Fine,” said Ilaria. She gave Nestor a slight nod, and reached out to Jo’s mind. The dutiful blurrg lumbered outside the ring, outside the line of fire. “See,” she said, nodding to where Nestor and Jo now stood. A hot breeze swept up from the canyon behind her and buffeted her cloak. “I mean you no harm. I just want to move on with my ward.”

“Dismount and turn over your weapon,” the leader ordered.

“Please, for the last time, let us be on our way.”

The leader bared his pointed teeth humorously. “You’re coming with us.”

Ilaria sighed. “I thought you would say that.”

She dismounted and instead of moving towards the leader, she stepped backwards, the yawning mouth of the canyon stroking her back with a breeze. Her audience watched in silence as she backed up to the edge, her heels bordering the air.

“Are you mad?” the leader demanded.

“Will you let us go on our way?”

He snarled. “I would never leave a child of Ryloth in the care of a mad offworlder.”

“Very well.”

Ilaria closed her eyes, becoming one with the Force, the canyon, the burning suns. She stepped backwards, and fell through open air.

Nestor let out a cry of alarm, and the twi’leks rushed forward.

She caught herself only a few meters from the ledge on a rock, letting out a groan as her shoulders strained. There wasn’t much time for her to consider the pain, though, as a gale stronger than any Ilaria had yet experienced swept up from the bottom of the canyon, pushing her up.

She willed herself up with the wind, and up she soared, straight over the leader’s blurrg. His mouth gaped as she neatly landed on his mounts back behind him, drawing her blaster and holding it to his knobby temple. She reached out his companion’s blurrgs, and they immediately began bucking and spinning.

The pink woman was thrown and lost her blaster over the canyon cliff. The other, a green male, was thrown completely from his mount in the same direction. He caught himself on the very edge, his legs dangling in open air.

“I warned you,” Ilaria hissed into the leader’s ear. “Now, give me your blaster.”

He reluctantly handed it over. “Only a Jedi could do such things.”

“I am not a Jedi,” she assured him, taking the blaster in her other hand and jumping down from his blurrg. She held up her hand, “Now, you will-“

“Wait!” called the pink woman, whom had risen to her feet. “Wait! We are in search of one called Swamp Rat.”

Ilaria stared at her. “Are you kidding me?” She rounded on the leader. “You couldn’t have started with that?”

He simply stared at her, dumbfounded. “You’re…Swamp Rat?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m a bantha. A bunch of dosh all this is. For this, I’m keeping your blaster.” She walked over to the ledge, where the one man still hung, and closed her eyes. Concentrating, she used tot Force to lift him back to solid ground.

She found that she was still wildly irritated. Turning back to the leader, she said, “Now, are we done being stupid? I assume you’re my Ryloth contacts?”

Ever since she overheard the transmission that the scouting party was on their way back with the Rebel spy, Hera sat perched on the stop of a rock face with her electrobinoculars, impatiently waiting. She was interested to see the spy that everyone was making such a fuss about, and her curiosity only grew when she heard that the spy had beat the bantha crap out of her dad’s men.

She wasn’t just curious, she was excited.

Finally, she spotted the dust-cloud generated by the running blurrg. It took a while for them to get close enough for her to make out the riders, and she was surprised to find that the two new blurrg had joined the pack: a purple twi’lek youngling and an another shadowed figure in a sandy cloak.

Hera climbed down from the rock face and ran for home. Her ancestral home was a large mansion, the product of generations of craft. The front courtyard was surrounded by a wall, but the most interesting part of the dirt face was the crashed and carbon-scored trooper transport skeleton that lay off to the side of it. It had crashed there during the Clone Wars, and it was the same transport she had salvaged her droid, Chopper, from.

She made it to the courtyard just before the newcomers entered, using the crashed LAAT to conceal her.

None of the twi’leks saw her, but the new cloaked figure glanced at the charred LAAT, and Hera only caught side of a human face concealed from the nose down by a scarf, and dark eyes. She also noticed that none of her father’s men had their blasters anymore.

The young twi’lek boy looked around at everything, wide-eyed. He was dirty, and his blurrg walked almost on top of the cloaked woman's. When they dismounted in the courtyard, he clutched her hand tightly, standing so close to her that the cloak threatened to envelope him. They moved towards the house, and were soon consumed by the old building.

Hera raced to one of the side entrances, where she was met by an impatient Chopper, who let out a series of low beeps.

“Come on!’ she whispered. “We’re going to miss it!”

She ran towards the main hall, where the party was greeting her father. Using the stained glass mosaics that lined each side, she ducked behind a nearby column to listen.

“—forward to hearing your report on the incident,” her father was saying, the normal edge in his voice.

“I’m sure you do,” a voice replied, soft but confident. “But first, I would like for my companion to be attended to, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah yes, of course,” her dad said. “My daughter can look after him.”

Hera braced herself as he called her name, “Hera! I know you’re around here somewhere. Come out!”

Doing her best to look casual, Hera came around the corner, Chopper coming from the hall to join her.

The spy had taken the hood of her cloak down, letting loose her mane of reddish-brown hair. She wasn’t much taller than Hera, but she had removed her face-scarf as well to reveal a beautiful, stately face. She didn’t look much older than Hera, either—and she was certainly not as old as her father. Her hands rested protectively on the twi’lek boy’s shoulders.

Hera came to a stop beside her, and found herself mildly uncomfortable under the woman’s gaze. She had dark, grey-green eyes that seemed to look right into her. Hera had met many of her father’s associates over the years, but this woman struck her differently than they ever had. She was simultaneously unsettled and intrigued.

“Hello,” she said rather shyer than normal. “I’m Hera.”

The woman gave an amused, though not unkind, smile. “Hello, Hera. My name is Ilaria, and this is Nestor.” She then knelt down and addressed the boy directly in a soft tone, “Nestor, I’ve got to talk to some people, okay? While I’m talking, Hera here is going to look after you.”

Nestor’s lip pouted and trembled. “I want to come with you.”

“I know,” Ilaria said with never-ending kindness. “I’ll be right here, just in a different room. Hera will take good care of you. She might even have some good food if you ask nicely.”

That seemed to get the boys attention, and he twisted to give Hera a skeptical glance before returning his gaze to his caretaker. He nodded.

Ilaria said, “Thank you.” She stood up again, and addressed Hera, “Thank you for helping. I appreciate it.”

Hera felt a flush of appreciation: Ilaria didn’t talk to her like she was a child. She suddenly felt quite equal to the situation, and not just like her father’s errand girl when he had no one else. “You’re welcome.” She then knelt down and extended a hand towards the boy. “Come on, I can show you where the sweet cakes are hidden.”

He was practically drooling when he took her hand, and she began to lead him towards the kitchen. Hera glanced back once, and saw the woman watching her. She caught Hera’s eye, and gave an almost invisible nod of approval.

Cham Syndulla’s office was large, sleek, and grey. He sat behind a large desk, and Ilaria took the chair opposite of it. The man had a strong mind, but he didn’t try to hide his emotions from her. She could feel his anger, his suspicion. She readied herself for the questions that she knew to come.

He regarded her coolly. “How did you come across the boy?”

“His mother was killed in the explosion. He had no one else. I couldn’t just leave him.”

“And the blurrg?”

“I may have uh commandeered them.”

“Why did you attack the raiders in the canyon?”

“I needed to be able to get Nestor safely past them.”

“Why did you attack my men?”

She repressed another flash of aggravation. “Because they held me at gunpoint, and ordered me to go with them. I didn’t know who they were, and they didn’t think to say either.”

“And you didn’t think to tell them?”

Ilaria raised an eyebrow. “I’m a spy on an unfamiliar planet fleeing a bombing. I wasn’t wildly inclined to tell strangers that.”

To her surprise, this answer seemed to amuse Cham, but it quickly faded. “I see. Why did you bomb the transport?”

“I didn’t,” she said firmly, evenly. She was tempted to tell him that she had thought that the bombing was his doing, but her instincts told her that wouldn’t go over well. So, she said all she knew, “It was an older twi’lek woman. She was asking the stormtroopers about her granddaughter…and then she said that she would see her soon. And then the bomb went off.”

Syndulla frowned. “My people grow tired of having their children stolen from them.” His tone…he wasn’t necessarily condemning the woman’s actions.

“I’m sure,” Ilaria agreed. “And I grow tired from seeing orphans. I understand her grief, but killing innocents is not the way.”

His nodded, pressing his fingertips together. “I agree. What are your plans for the boy?”

Ilaria shook her head, for the first time uncertain. What was she going to do with him? She couldn’t take him with her. She was a young Rebel spy, unfit to raise a child. And yet, the thought of leaving him behind seemed unbearable. She felt a fierce need to make sure Nestor was protected.

She confessed, “I’m unsure. My only goal for the past few rotations was to keep him safe. Perhaps someone would be willing to adopt him. Do you have anyone in mind?”

“No,” he answered. “But he should stay on Ryloth with his people.”

 _Will he be loved and protected here?_ Ilaria asked silently. _You just said you knew of no one that would take him_. She was not about to leave him alone to an uncertain fate.

“Then perhaps we should try to find someone in want of a son,” she said. “But first, I would like to contact my people. Do you have a holotransmitter that I may borrow?”

Syndulla left Ilaria in privacy to make the communication, but she figured he was at least recording the conversation. She knew she would, and he seemed much more suspicious than herself. She input the right set of secure codes, and a few moments later Harland appeared before her. His curly hair was a mess, but he wore a broad smile.

“Ilaria! I’m glad you made it. We were worried about you there.”

“As was I,” she said, relief washing over her. “To be honest, I’ve seen enough sand to last me a lifetime. Is Fulcrum there?”

“She was out in the mountains. We radioed her—she’s on her way back now.”

“Okay.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’ll wait until Fulcrum gets back so I don’t have to say everything twice.”

“Ah, okay,” he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

If she wasn’t so tired and preoccupied with the million thoughts running through her head, Ilaria would have been tempted to cater to his feelings a little more. But, she was in no mood.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Ahsoka appeared alongside Harland, as beautiful as ever. She was smiling. “I’m happy to see that you’re okay.”

“Same.”

“Where are you?”

“Syndulla’s,” she said. “To be honest I don’t quite care to get into the details of my situation too much at the moment. So, for one, I’m fine. Two, I would love to get off this rock relatively soon. Three, we have a small problem."

Ahsoka raised an over-eye marking. “What kind of problem?”

“I may or may not have acquired a young twi’lek orphan. His mother was killed in the bombing and he had no one else…I didn’t want to leave him so I brought him with me. Syndulla said he doesn’t know of anyone looking for a child…”

If had just been the two of them, Ilaria would have been more forthcoming. She would have told Ahsoka that she didn’t want to leave the boy until she was sure that he was in a loving and safe place, or as close to that as he could get under the Empire.

Ahsoka studied her for a moment, as if she could read her thoughts. “I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you. Syndulla wants him to stay on Ryloth but if we don’t know anyone here willing to take him in…”

“I’m sure you’ll do the right thing,” Ahsoka said. “How old is the boy?”

“Seven standard years. His name is Nestor”

“Perhaps you should ask Nestor what he would like.”

Ilaria considered it, and nodded. “I will. Please let me know if you find anything.”

“You know I will,” said Ahsoka. “In the meantime we will make arrangements to pick you up.” She hesitated, and then added, “May the Force be with you.”

“See you soon.”

Ilaria cut the transmission, and stared at the wall for a while.

She found Nestor and Hera eating in a rather large kitchen, both shoving their faces full of cakes that smelled so sweet it almost nauseated Ilaria. The boy seemed happy, though, with sticky syrup dribbling down his chin. Ilaria wondered if he comprehended what was happening to him. She expected not. Hera stared at her with big, bright green eyes that reminded Ilaria of freshly budding leaves. The pair was also accompanied by a rough-looking orange astromech.

“Hera, could you give Nestor and I a moment, please?”

“Uh, sure. Come on, Chop.” Hera walked away, throwing another inquiring glance over her shoulder as the droid followed with a series of particularly low, scratchy beeps.

Ilaria took the newly vacant seat beside Nestor. “Are the cakes good?”

He nodded affirmation, and held out one for her.

“I’m not hungry, thank you though,” she said gently. “Nestor, I need to ask you a few important questions, okay?”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“I told your mom that I would take care of you,” she began, unsure of exactly what to say. “And I will make sure that you’re somewhere safe. Are you okay with leaving Ryloth, or do you want to stay?”

He set his cake down, and frowned, new defeat coming to his violet eyes. “Mom’s not here anymore.”

It broke her heart to answer. “No. She’s not here like you or I. But, she’s here.” Ilaria pointed at his chest. “She will always be with you, Nestor.”

His lip trembled and fat tears dropped from his cheeks and into his lap. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you, Senator,” Ahsoka said, feeling a rush of relief as the holo of Bail blinked away.

It was an odd hour on Crait, still a few standard hours before the sun would begin rising. The hangar was mostly empty, and the techs asleep. She had found herself unable to sleep since receiving Ilaria’s last transmission, and had immediately gone to work on trying to find an adoptive home for the twi’lek boy, Nestor. Luckily, she had been able to find one, courtesy of Bail’s wife, Breha. The Queen of Alderaan was a wizard at placing refugees, and she apparently kept a list of people willing to adopt orphans on Alderaan. It was a sad reality, Ahsoka reflected, but she was grateful for the Queen’s thoroughness.

While she had waiting for a reply from Bail, she had made the arrangements for her to go pick up Ilaria herself. She supposed that it was a risk, but then and again, everything she did was risky. And she didn’t want to leave the job to anyone else at the moment. Not after the bombing.

She punched in the codes for a new transmission, and a few moments later Ilaria’s tired expression appeared. Her hair was the same kind of mess that it always got into when she slept, and she was squinting, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ahsoka. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Ilaria said, her voice the same kind of hoarse it always got when she was tired. “It’s not like I was sleeping well anyways.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Unfortunately, no,” said Ilaria, stifling a yawn. “You’ve ruined me. I’m so used to sleeping in that cursed bunk that when I’m in an actual bed it’s too soft.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Wow, it sounds like you’re having a rough time.”

“The roughest,” Ilaria agreed, running a hand over her face as the holo flickered. She narrowed her eyes, studying Ahsoka closely. “How long has it been since you last slept?”

 _Oh great, this argument again_ , Ahsoka thought. “I’m fine. I’ve been reaching out and I found someone willing to take Nestor in. Is he okay with leaving Ryloth?”

“As okay as a youngling can be with anything like this,” she said sadly. “It’s going to be hard for him either way. Now, I get to tell Syndulla that I plan on taking him off world.”

“You can be persuasive. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Ilaria let out a snort, and Ahsoka stifled the urge to ask her about the details of her mission. Those could wait. Instead, they just stared at each other for a few moments in a comfortable silence, and Ilaria’s cynical expression softened.

“Ash, you need to get some sleep.”

“You’re one to be talking.”

“I’m serious,” Ilaria insisted. “I love talking to you but you shouldn’t be missing out on sleep for me.”

Ahsoka felt a thrill at that sentence, and more particularly, that one word: love. It struck her rather forcibly, and she understood that it was part of the reason she was dragging out this holo.

“As much as I love talking to you, too,” she said, glancing down, “I have some more information for you.”

Ilaria raised a neat eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?”

“I’ll be arriving in eight standard hours to pick you up. Sending the coordinates now.” She pressed the button, and a moment later, Ilaria nodded.

“Got them. So, that means you have enough time for a quick nap.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Ilaria flashed her an impish smile. “You know, sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, I am right. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Ahsoka said softly, and the transmission ended.

The bunk room on their ship was black, but that was no problem for Ahsoka’s vision. She could still perfectly see the sleeping pile of vulptice pups on their newest bed. Only Salt woke when she entered the room, lazily regarding Ahsoka with one eye before sinking her head back into the bed.

“Too right,” Ahsoka muttered, stripping off her armor and setting it along with her belt and lightsabers on the small storage cabinet. She laid down in her bunk, and thought of how empty the room seemed without Ilaria’s presence.

There weren’t many things in the small backpack Hera had given Nestor. There was the blanket and scarf Ilaria had given him, his water bottle, and the paper bag of sweet cakes Hera had given him when she said goodbye. He would miss her. She was nice.

Ilaria rode Bo beside him and Jo, and two of the other adults rode in front of them on their blurrg. Hera’s dad rode on the other side of Ilaria in silence. In truth, he scared Nestor a little bit, and he was glad that Ilaria stood between the two of them. She didn’t seem to be scared of him, and Nestor tried to act like he wasn’t either.

They were on the way to the spot where Ilaria’s friend was coming to pick them up on a starship, to go to a different planet. Before they had left, Nestor had asked Ilaria if he would ever come back to Ryloth, and she had told him that it was up to him. If he was meant to come back to Ryloth, he would.

Nestor hadn’t been entirely sure what that had meant, but Ilaria seemed to think that it was reassuring, and so he supposed that it had to be.

They came to a stop in a narrow canyon. The other twi’leks shuffled and exchanged glances, but Ilaria only stared at the sky, smiling the same way she did when she looked at the stars. Except it was daytime. Nestor stared up too, trying to find what she was looking for.

And then, he saw it.

It was a little black speck in the sky, and it grew bigger and lighter until a medium-sized grey ship was landing in the canyon before them.

“It’s time to go,” said Ilaria. She was already on the sand beside Jo, holding out her hand to help Nestor down.

He slid off into her arms, letting her lower him into the sand. He and Ilaria said goodbye to Jo and Bo, and Nestor bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry as he gave the blurrg one final pat. While he stroked the blurrg, Ilaria said something to Hera’s dad, but Nestor wasn’t really listening.

She was back at his side, placing a gentle hand on the back of his shoulders. “It’s time to go, Nestor.”

He nodded, and took her hand in his as she led him beyond the blurrg and twi’leks, towards the ship. Her hand was delicate and knobby. His mother would have said she had artist’s hands.

The belly of the ship gaped open, and a ramp extended down from it and into the sand. Standing at the bottom of the ramp was a strange woman he had never seen before, with orange skin and white face markings. Her blue-and-white lekku hung down the sides of her face and pointed above her head. She had her arms crossed, and she was smiling at Ilaria the same way she sometimes smiled at the stars.

Still, there was something about her that was intimidating, and Nestor wrapped an arm around Ilaria’s thigh as she stopped in front of the stranger. He glanced up at her face and saw that she was smiling, too. Bigger than he had ever seen.

“Nestor,” she said, still smiling, “This is my friend Ash. She’s going to take us through space. Do you still want to fly in the stars?”

He looked at Ash for a minute. She had bright blue eyes, and she looked fierce, but kind.

Ilaria gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I bet if you ask, she’ll even let you sit in the copilots chair.”

The copilots chair. He could sit in an actual starship, right alongside it’s pilot, as if took off and flew through space. “Can I sit in the copilots chair?”

Ash smiled and said that he could, and the three of them headed up the ramp and into the ship.

Nestor wasn’t sure what he expected when he stepped into the durasteel hull of the ship, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to smell like flowers. It smelled strangely sweet, mixed with the metal and carbon. He tried to find a source for the smell, but couldn’t, and let himself be led through the narrow doorway, the doors sliding before and behind them.

The cockpit wasn’t large, but it was big enough for the three of them to squeeze in. Buttons and levers and ports and screens covered every available surface, and Nestor found himself wondering what each and every one did. Through the circular transparisteel windows, he could see the orange canyon wall.

Ash sat down in the pilots seat, and motioned for him to sit in the one next to it. The copilots chair was worn with leather, and a bit too big for Nestor’s frame, his feet dangling in open air. He had to sit on the very edge of the chair just to reach the console.

“You sir, need to strap in,” said Ilaria, who was already leaning over to secure the safety belts (that looked like they were hardly used) along his chest and waist.

“You’re not strapped in,” he protested.

She gave him a wink. “Because I’m a magician, remember?”

“A magician?” Ash repeated skeptically.

“Yes, a magician,” said Ilaria, giving Nestor a knowing glance. “But that’s our secret, right?”

“Right,” said Nestor, sitting a little straighter. He was proud that Ilaria trusted him with her secret, although he didn’t understand why her friend found it so funny. Maybe they were the kind of friends that made fun of each other a lot.

“I see,” said Ash, giving Ilaria another sideways glance before her fingers flew to the controls. While Ash pressing buttons and screens on the dash, Ilaria flipped a few switches on the ceiling, and the engines purred to life.

“Alright Nestor,” said Ilaria, “Here’s what you do…”

The ship slowly lifted from the canyon, and he gawked as the ground below them grew distant, and then disappeared completely, giving way to blue skies and clouds. He could feel the gravity, too, and the engines winning fight against it.

Ash did most of the work, but as they angled for the open sky and beyond that, the darkness of space, Ilaria would occasionally tell Nestor to press this button, or push that lever. He felt a slight pull as they were leaving the atmosphere, as if Ryloth wasn’t quite ready to let him go, and then it slackened, and they were surrounded by stars.

He sat on the very edge of his seat and admired the dark blackness of space, and the bright twinkling of innumerable stars. There were so many! Some were big, some were small. Some were silver, some where blue.

“Can we go see the stars?” he asked.

“Not today, but maybe some other time,” said Ash. “They can wait.”

“Stars wait?”

“Of course,” said Ilaria. “Stars do many things. They wait, they float, they burn, they freeze. Stars can do just about anything.”

“Can they laugh?”

Ilaria considered it. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never talked to a star before.”

He looked at Ash. “Have you?”

She shook her head, her striped lekku swaying slightly. “I don’t think so.”

Ilaria, who had been immersed in one of her screens, said, “First jump has been calculated.”

“Alright,” said Ash. “Nestor, you want to help me jump to lightspeed?”

He felt a thrill of excitement and nodded furiously, sitting so far on the edge of his seat that he would have fallen if the safety straps weren’t holding him in place.

Ash smiled, and put a hand on a lever that rested between the two of them. “Push up on this one three. Ready? One, two, three!”

They pushed on the lever, and as it clinked up, the stars around them began to elongate until they weren’t there at all anymore, replaced by tunnel of blue, white, and black swirls. Nestor imagined that they were in a waterfall running through a pipe, and he watched with amazement as the tunnel endlessly consumed them.

Ilaria laughed, and pat him on the shoulder. “Good job.”

It was on their third hyperspace jump that the boy fell asleep right in the copilots chair, his head lolling sideways. Ilaria moved him to the bunk room, and returned wearing her lightsaber at her belt.

She had lost some weight on Ryloth, and her skin was tanned and peeling. Her lips were cracked, and when she took off her leather gloves, she revealed her fingers, which had been splitting at the pads and knuckles. She had retrieved some balm and spot bacta from storage, and after treating her hands with the bacta, proceeded to thoroughly work the balm into her skin as she sat in the copilots seat. It gave of the scent of flowers and herbs. The first place she put it was on her lips and face, immediately soothing her dry skin.

“The desert doesn’t suit me,” she sighed.

“No,” Ahsoka agreed, still more than relieved that Ilaria was alive and, relatively speaking, well. It wouldn’t take long for her to look like herself again. “So, should I mention that your hair is still brown?”

Ilaria groaned theatrically. “Please don’t. I’m starting to think that my only option will be to shave it.”

“Then you won’t be able to braid it or constantly mess with it.”

“Exactly,” sighed Ilaria, once more applying balm to her lips. “Stars, why does bacta smell so bad? I can still smell it even over this.”

Ahsoka smiled. Same old Ilaria. It would be alarming if she pulled out the bacta and didn’t complain about the smell. “It just smells like seaweed.”

“Old seaweed that’s been slowly baking in the sun for twelve rotations, maybe.”

“It doesn’t smell that bad to me.”

“I’m convinced your nose is broken.”

“How many times are we going to have this argument?”

“Argument?” Ilaria repeated. “That’s a little bit of an aggressive word. I would say that it’s a _disagreement_.”

“Really? Cause it sounds like you’re arguing with me.”

“Fair enough.”

They flew in silence for a little while, Ahsoka enjoying her friend’s company and Ilaria absentmindedly taking apart her lightsaber. Once she had disassembled it and reassembled it again, she noted, “I can’t tell you how many times I wished that I had this on Ryloth.”

“Your lightsabers become a part of you,” Ahsoka said, and realizing that she was being the teacher more than the friend, added, “I heard you had a run in with some raiders and Cham Syndulla’s men.”

“Yeah,” Ilaria sighed. “Trying to protect Nestor posed some…challenges to my journey. It’s a lot different when it’s just me walking into traps versus when it’s me and a youngling.”

Ahsoka found herself thinking of the Martez sisters, orphaned and left to struggle on their own. “I’m glad you took him with you. Not all orphans of conflict are so lucky.”

Ilaria raised an eyebrow and cocked her head, but didn’t press the issue. “Nor are they so lucky as to have someone willing to take them in. I take it that’s where we’re headed now?”

“Yes,” said Ahsoka. “Captain Antilles is to meet us in space, and transport Nestor back to Alderaan where his new family is waiting.”

A shadowed clouded Ilaria’s expression, and she slumped back into her chair. “That’s good.”

“You don’t want to leave him,” Ahsoka guessed.

Ilaria shrugged. “I’ve grown attached to the little guy. But, before you say anything, I’m aware that I am in no position to raise a youngling, and he has a wonderful life waiting for him on Alderaan.”

“That’s not all I was going to say,” said Ahsoka. “I was going to say that it is only natural for you to want to protect him and make sure he is safe.”

“You are very wise for one so old.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Yes, because this conversation is heavy and I’m too exhausted for heavy conversations at the moment.”

“You’re impossible,” muttered Ahsoka, but she relented. “Salt has missed you.”

“I’ve missed her, too.”

Ilaria sighed again, running her hands over her face, and Ahsoka realized just how tired her friend was. She was tempted to ask if she had been having her dreams again on Ryloth, but perhaps thought it better not to at the moment.

“Ahsoka, you know I don’t have to read your thoughts to guess that something’s on your mind.”

“It’s good to have you back, that’s all.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I _am_ happy that you’re back,” said Ahsoka adamantly. “You just seem…distracted is all.”

“Suppose I am,” Ilaria said. “I’ve had much too much time to think over the pack few weeks, and far to little sleep to mull it over.”

“So you _were_ having your dreams again.”

Ilaria’s cheeks tinged pink, and she ran her fingers through her hair. “To an extent, yes. I think so. I don’t know. They could have been regular dreams.”

“Since when are your dreams regular?”

Her companion’s cheeks were truly flushed now, and her embarrassment radiated through the Force. “Everyone’s dreams are strange. That’s why they’re called dreams.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I am just saying that dreams are rarely what they seem to be.”

“It is fine if you don’t want to tell me,” said Ahsoka. “You seem to have a lot on your mind, so I figured I would ask.”

“It’s not that,” said Ilaria, and she let out a short, breathy growl of frustration. Yeah, same old Ari. “Maybe we can talk about it later. I don’t think now is the time.”

“Oh.”

“Not in a bad way, I mean,” Ilaria said quickly, shifting her weight in her seat. “I just…oh, dosh it, this is all turning more dramatic than it needs to be. I had a few dreams. One was about my mother, and I had a few about you.”

Ahsoka was a little taken aback, and the lightspeed tunnel before them all of a sudden seemed entirely insignificant. “What about me?”

Ilaria shifted her weight again, running her fingers through her hair, her cheeks as dark a pink as Ahsoka had ever seen. She was determinedly gazing at the cockpit controls. “Stupid stuff.”

“Stupid stuff?”

“You pry like a womp rat.”

Maybe she had gone too long with too little sleep, too, because Ahsoka found that she very much did not want to drop the conversation. Time waltzed around her like a politicians ball. There was a knot in her stomach, and she was fighting down the laugh bubbling up in her, but when Ilaria gave her a sad attempt at a sideways glare, she couldn’t help but giggle, forcing her companion’s lips to crack into a reluctant grin as well.

“You’re laughing at me!”

“I am not!”

“Fine,” said Ilaria. She leaned sideways in her chair, closer to Ahsoka so that she had nowhere to look but her dark grey eyes, and said, “Why do you want to know so bad? You’re laughing like you already know something interesting.”

“I don’t know anything,” said Ahsoka, mimicking Ilaria’s posture. “Suspecting isn’t the—”

The navicomputer screen shifted, and a moment later they dropped out of hyperspace at the coordinates where they were supposed to meet Captain Antilles, snapping them both to attention. Ahsoka hit the thrusters, while Ilaria shifted the ship into an idle that would have them stay put while they waited for the Alderaanians to arrive.

Once they were situated, Ilaria stood and sighed. “I guess I’ll go get Nestor.” She made it to the door, where she stopped and with a hand on the wall, said earnestly, “Ahsoka, I really have missed you. More than I reasonably should have.”

Ahsoka gave her a small smile, her heart fluttering in her chest. “I’ve missed you, too.”  
And even when Ilaria was gone, her words echoed in Ahsoka’s ears, _More than I reasonably should have_. What did it mean, when you missed someone an unreasonable amount when they were gone? Well, that was an easy enough answer, and it alarmed her almost as much as it delighted her.


	23. Chapter 23

Ilaria vaguely wondered if it was possible for her brain to overload with too many emotions, like a droid getting zapped from a bad connector port. Her head was light, her heart was a knot, and her feet felt uncharacteristically heavy as she entered the bunk room, where Nestor snored in Ahsoka’s bunk.

She stood in the doorway for a moment and watched him sleep. He had his blanket wrapped tightly around him, and she found her eyes growing hot as she thought about saying goodbye. But, she pushed the thought from her mind. She had to keep it together for him.

She moved to the bunk and sat on the edge, nudging him gently. “Nestor, wake up.”

It took a few attempts, but eventually he sat up and rubbed his violet eyes. “Are we here?”

“Sort of,” she said. “Remember the family I told you about that wanted you to go live with them?”

He bowed his head. “Yeah.”

“Well, we’re meeting another spaceship here that’s going to take you to them.”

“And you’re not coming with me.”

Ilaria wondered if there was easier ways to break her heart. “I can’t, Nestor. You see, people don’t like magicians, and if I were to go with you, people wouldn’t like you either. I want you to be happy.”

“Happy,” he said glumly. “Why don’t people like magicians?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said, finding some kind of sick irony that she was now having to explain things that she had only learned a few months prior to a seven year old.

“Basically, it’s because they’re scared of them. And that’s why you can’t ever tell anyone that I’m a magician, or that you know one, okay? It’s to protect you.”

“And you,” he said, suddenly sitting up straighter “Like you protected my in the desert, I can protect you by keeping your secret.”

Ilaria smiled. “Exactly.”

The three of them were greeted by Captain Antilles, marching across the ship’s connector with his characteristic sense of duty. Nestor quivered slightly, and Ilaria kept a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Short greetings were exchanged between the adults, and then Antilles turned to Nestor and told him that they were ready to leave when he was. Nestor’s round face looked up at Ilaria, his eyes wet with tears and his bottom lip quivering.

She knelt down so that her eyes were level with his, and wrapped him in a warm hug. Now, her eyes truly stung, and her throat felt so tight so knew she wouldn’t be able to speak even if she wanted to. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a shaky breath and forced herself to relax, to breathe. “Nestor,” she said, still hugging him so tightly she was worried that she might break his ribs, “This journey is about to end, and your next is about to begin. Be brave, and be kind. Promise?”

He nodded, and weakly said, “Promise.”

“Good.” Ilaria pulled back, and put her hands on his shoulders. She stared into his violet eyes, and she could feel all of his fear. Closing hers for a moment, she focused on his mind, and did her best to sweep away some of that fear and replace it was a sense of peace, like the kind she felt when she stared at the stars. “Now, go get on that ship.”

He gave her another quick hug, and turned to Antilles and nodded, which the captain returned. Antilles gave Ilaria a nod of approval and Ahsoka one of goodbye, before marching down the bright connector to the ship beyond, Nestor at his heels. The boy didn’t turn back.

She knelt stared after him until the metal doors closed, and only then did she allow herself to acknowledge the tears pooling in her eyes. She wiped them away, and before she could say anything, she found herself wrapped in another hug. Ahsoka embraced her tightly, and Ilaria melted.

She hugged her back fiercely, burying her face in Ahsoka’s neck, her lekku offering a curtain to hide the tears. Her legs felt weak, and her breaths were shaky. But Ahsoka was warm and comforting and familiar. She closed her eyes and let herself disappear in her breathing. Eventually, the tightness in her throat began to ease, and her breathing steady. It was only then that Ahsoka let her go, but not very far.

“Why am I like this?” Ilaria asked, wiping the old tears from her cheeks and the new ones from her eyes.

Ahsoka smiled affectionately. “Because you care.”

“You care, too, but you always keep it together.”

“Ilaria.” Ahsoka said her name as if it were a spell. “It’s okay to be upset.”

Of course it was, Ilaria thought, suddenly wondering why she was feeling so bad about being upset. It was only human to be upset at saying goodbye to someone she cared about. With that realization she also concluded that she was absolutely exhausted. “Look at me being dramatic. I think I just need sleep. Let’s head back to Crait.”

“I can pilot,” said Ahsoka, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You should lay down. They’re going to want a report when we get back, anyways.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go rest. I will wake you up if I need you.”

“You’re the best.”

Ilaria didn’t even bother to change, or take her boots off (in truth she was scared at how horrendous her feet would smell). Picking up Nestor’s discarded blanket, she climbed up to her bunk and let her shoes hang over the edge, curling into a ball and closing her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep.

As she piloted the ship into lightspeed, Ahsoka reflected on the touching goodbye between Ilaria and Nestor, and all the people she had never been able to say goodbye to. She thought of the last time she had been Anakin and Obi-Wan. She had been so uncertain still, so distant to them…if she had known it was going to be the last, what would she had done differently?

For one, she wished that she would have told them that she loved them. In truth, she didn’t know if she had been capable of doing that without hindsight, without knowing with regret that she was so cold to them the last time she saw them. Back then, she had not been accustomed to telling people that she loved them, and she figured that only knowledge of the future would have given her the courage.

 _I’m_ still _not accustomed to telling people that I love them_ , she thought grimly. The word weighed in her mind, on the tip of her tongue and at the bottom of her stomach. It echoed in her thoughts, like a pebble tumbling down a cliff.

She managed to drop out of hyperspace, approach Crait, and park in the yawning mouth of the hangar without Ilaria emerging from the bunkroom. After she parked and cut the engines, Ahsoka ventured to the back to find Ilaria curled in a tight ball in her bunk, her boots hanging comically off the edge.

Ahsoka tapped the heel of the boots. “We’re here.”

In response, Ilaria let out a groan and sat up, her feet dangling from the bunk as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I want to sleep for another hundred years.”

“You can do that tonight.”

“That seems paradoxical.” She dropped from the top bunk with a metal thud and stretched her arms high above her head, scrunching up her face. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Ilaria braided her hair as they emerged from the belly of their ship and made their way towards the comm center.

“Whoa!” a voice hailed from atop a nearby parked bomber. It was Harland, covered in grease with a wrench in his hand and a mechanic’s rag on his shoulder. Everyone in the Rebellion tended to do a little bit of everything. He cupped his gloved hands in front of his eyes, mimicking a pair of electrobinoculars. “Is that Ilaria in a jumpsuit?”

She finished her braid and gave him a cheerful wave. “Better wipe that grease off your lip, flyboy! You look like you’ve been snogging a bantha!”

A rumble of laughter erupted from the surrounding Rebels.

Harland, however, was not dissuaded. He made a kissy face, “Why don’t you come over here and wipe it off for me?”

Ilaria raised an eyebrow, and with a flick of her wrist, the rag on Harland’s shoulder jumped up and clung to his face. He startled, arms waving wildly as he struggled to keep his balance on the aircraft and pull the rag off his face. Passing him, Ilaria called over her shoulder with a devilish grin, “Anytime.”

Ahsoka could picture Obi-Wan’s slight, disapproving headshake at such casual use of the Force as if he were standing beside her. She could also imagine Anakin smirking in approval. The mental image was pleasing.

Their eyes met, and Ilaria gave her a shrug with a apologetic smile. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut out by a series of excited howls and yips came from behind her, and the vulptice pup trio came rocketing towards Ilaria. Salt immediately jumped in her arms, and the boys wove happily between her legs, all the while letting out exuberant yips.

Salt went to happily licking her adoptive mother’s chin and cheeks, causing Ilaria’s nose to wrinkle as she laughed. “It’s good to see you too.”

Ahsoka chuckled. Looking at Ilaria and the pups, she felt like a flower was blossoming deep within her. She was also very aware of the eyes that kept expectantly flicking towards them. “I told you that they missed you.”

Ilaria set the pup down with a fond smile, kneeling down to give Rock and Red their due attention as well. “I didn’t say that I didn’t believe you.”

“Senator Organa will be waiting for your full report,” said Ahsoka, finding she was at a loss for words for anything else.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Giving the pups one more round of pets, Ilaria reluctantly stood. At the mention of the report, there was a weariness that had crept into her eyes, suddenly making it apparent that in the desert, she had lost weight that she really hadn’t been able to afford to lose in the first place. “Let’s go inform the Senator.”

Salt marched dutifully between Ilaria and Ahsoka, and she stopped with them at the comm dais, sitting astutely as the hologram of Bail appeared before them.

“Ilaria,” he said warmly, his eyes crinkling. “It is good to see you.”

“And you as well,” said Ilaria. “Come on, sir, you should know better than to doubt me by now.”

Bail bowed his head in amused concession. “I see your journey had done nothing to dampen your spirits."

“Impossible,” said Ilaria. “Now, where to begin…”

She recounted her story, and as she spoke watery images drifted through Ahsoka’s mind, and she realized that she was catches glimpses of Ilaria’s memories of the ordeal. There was a giant brazier of black spikes, hardly holding back a mountainous fire that ate the air as if it were its last. She was walking along dark paths, stroking soft plant leaves as music played in the distance. A dress of polished black stones, falling to stone floors, accompanied by a brief tightness of panic. A young man’s face, twisted in disgust and contempt. Bright sunlight, and a withered twi’lek woman, thinking lovingly of her granddaughter. The brief sense of foreboding, and then the earth shaking. A shattered com link in her palm: alone. A young twi’lek woman dying, a little boy: Nestor, terrified. Cool, sweet water that soothed her skin and scalp. The strain, the sweat of lifting massive orange rocks. An eerie sense of calm as blaster bolts painted the air. A narrow strip of stars in the sky, and the boy beside her. Climbing high above the canyon floor. Snarling, falling, flying. Sweet cakes, and wide green eyes. A soft bed, and to Ahsoka’s surprise, a holo of herself accompanied with a sense of inexpressible warmth. The relief of feeling her lightsaber in her hands once more. The terrible sadness and deep love, the hot tears as she hugged Nestor goodbye.

She spoke for a long while, and it took Ahsoka a few moments to grasp the silence as the storm of emotions that whirled through her mind came to a rest. She glanced around at the techs and commanders off a few respectful meters away. They appeared to be unaffected. Ahsoka leaned over and whispered in Ilaria’s ear, “You are projecting.”

Her companion did not even flinch in response, but her presence in the Force immediately withdrew.

“It certainly has been a journey for you,” said Bail at last. “The information you’ve gained about Mors and her associates is invaluable, especially her ties with the Pykes and Zygerrians.”

“Thank you,” said Ilaria, and after a moment’s hesitation, “If I’m not too forward to give my opinion on such matters, everyone of authority whom I met there was motivated by self gain. They only thing they care about is power. Mors only cares about the power to drown herself in her misery, and Dray only cares to unseat her. If they choose to aid the Rebellion, which I personally doubt they will, it will be for their own gain. They will attempt to manipulate and betray you as soon as it benefits them. And considering the power of the Empire in comparison to us…well, you’re a smart man.”

Bail studied her. “I am grateful for your warning, and I will heed your advice.”

Ilaria looked as if she would have liked to say more, but merely nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I would very much like to bathe.” She didn’t even wait for Bail’s response before turning at weaving her way back through the line of techs towards the hangar refreshers, ever-faithful Salt at her heels. She didn’t even mention the hair dye.

He watched her go and remarked to Ahsoka, “Strange how someone with so much presence can make such a good spy.”

Ahsoka was sitting on her bunk when Ilaria entered from the refreshers, squinting at a datapad. A towel covered her body, and her hair was dark and slick against her head. “No wonder my hair is still brown!” she exclaimed. “This dye comes out at exactly three standard weeks, apparently.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Ahsoka. “I was kind of hoping to see what you would look like bald.”

Ilaria smirked and set the datapad aside. “Keep dreaming, flygirl.” She retrieved a comb from one of her drawers, and sat beside Ahsoka as she went to work combing her hair. “I don’t think I’m very fond of sand.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Why not?”

“Because it refuses to come out of my scalp,” she groaned, massaging the roots of her hair with her fingertips. “Or at least it feels like it does.”

“And you decided to sit on my bunk while you shake sand out of your hair?”

“Well, I wasn’t very well about to do it on mine.” She smiled. “But, if I get any sand in your bunk, I promise that I will clean it off.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“I try.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and Ahsoka could feel the Force rolling around Ilaria like a storm cloud. She once again reflected how poorly her friend would have done in the Jedi Order. She was simply too wild. Attempting to harness her into order would be akin to attempting to catch a thunder storm in a bottle.

“Do you want to talk about your mission?” she asked, thinking of the memories once more.

Ilaria sighed and gave shake of her head. “No. Not right now, anyways. I think I need a few days home first.”

Home. The word echoed in Ahsoka’s brain like a rock in a turbo engine. Her fingers tingled, and the tightness returned to her stomach. “You want to go back to Xeroianjj?”

Her companion’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? No.” She then let out an uneasy laugh, running her fingers through her hair. “I meant here.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said lightly. She was again finding herself at a loss for words. “Right.”

“Is…is there something wrong with that?”

Ahsoka met her friend’s impossibly deep gaze. She was again reminded of a warm rain, the comforting smell of a forest in the morning. Ilaria was wild, but wildness wasn’t bad. It just was. She was a ferocious storm, and she was the lull where the rain barely fell, and the streamers of sunlight and grey clouds they breathed through.

“No,” she said softly. “It’s a good thing. To be honest…I’ve never really thought of this place as home. I’ve never really thought of any place as home since I left the Order.”

Ilaria averted her gaze to the metallic floor. “You know, Ash, I don’t think home is a place. I think home is a feeling. For me, home is in the livimmae trees with the yarkiokkajj. But it’s also here, climbing these mountains, living in this ship with…with you. That’s what I dreamed about while I was on Ryloth. I dreamt of Xeroianjj, this ship, you.”

The words melted into Ahsoka’s skin, seeping into her bones. She was oddly numb, oddly sensitive. Time was going on forever, and simultaneously rushing by at lightspeed. All she could do was stare at Ilaria, unsure of which move was the right move. She was impossibly far and unbearably close to her.

She thought of how empty the ship had felt without Ilaria, how often she thought of her when she was gone. I’ve missed her more than I reasonably should.

“I guess I should get some sleep,” said Ilaria her cheeks. She stood. “I’m happy to be-“

She didn’t get finish that sentence, though, because Ahsoka reached out with her hand, clasping one of Ilaria’s and causing her to pause. They were suspended, frozen in time, gazes steady, immortal.

“Ari…”

“Yes?” She breathed the word, her pink lips parted slightly.

“You make this place feel like home,” Ahsoka said dumbly, struggling to find the words she wanted to say—needed to say. “You’re so…you…”

“Wow, thanks,” Ilaria laughed, her eyes still deeper than the underground oceans on Utapau.

Ahsoka grinned despite herself. She clutched Ilaria’s hand more tightly. “I…you…” She didn’t know the words that could describe the breathlessness she felt. And then she realized that maybe it wasn’t words that were needed at all.

She pulled Ilaria back down to the bunk with her, and kissed her incredibly soft lips. Ahsoka closed her eyes, succumbing to the tempest of Ilaria’s touch, that was also somehow a sultry gentle rain.

Over her life, there were many moments Ilaria had wished that she could have been frozen in. Some of them included: drinking ale on the platform with her mother while watching the sunset, flying through the night skies with Braetis, and the sensation of jumping to hyperspace. Any of those were so perfect, she would have been content to live in them.

She would have traded lifetimes in all of them if it meant she could spend the rest of that morning, sleeping in that bunk with Ahsoka and ignoring the rest of the world. The bunk, even though made to accommodate multiple species, larger bodies than either of them, forced them to lay all over each other. Not that she minded. She figured that the bunk could have stretched for a kilometer, and they would have still been tangled under the same blanket.

Ahsoka’s lekku was soft, and it compressed as she laid against Ilaria’s arm, who vaguely wondered how is affected her spatial awareness. Of course, since Ahsoka was still sleeping, she supposed it hardly mattered. Ilaria’s arm tingled, and she attempted to subtly readjust herself without waking Ahsoka, silently wishing that she could see in the blackness of the bunkroom. Unfortunately, she failed.

“Mmhmm ‘rong?” Ahsoka murmured, still half asleep.

“Nothing,” Ilaria croaked, her voice irritatingly nonexistent, taking advantage of the opportunity to roll over on her side, facing Ahsoka, who shifted as well.

A warm hand brushed Ilaria’s cheek, lulling her closer, and Ahsoka gave her a soft, sleepy kiss. “Sleep, Ari.” She pulled her closer, and Ilaria fell asleep with Ahsoka’s lips pressed gently against her forehead.

The next few days were slightly awkward at first, but eventually they smoothed over into something that was akin to free falling in sunshine. It didn’t take long for them to push sleeping mats together on the floor of the bunk room at night, and there they slept in a tangled pile of arms and legs and blankets. It was a welcomed change, and even when they slept back-to-back, Ilaria found the warmth of Ahsoka’s presence comforting. Plus, there was much more room to spread out on the floor.

Other than that, their daily routines hardly changed (well, they may have started sleeping in a little later). They still spent the mornings beating the kriff out of each other in hand-to-hand combat and lightsaber training (it was still mostly Ahsoka throwing Ilaria in the dirt). Although, since that night, there was a certain new edge in their hand-to-hand combat. They still climbed the mountains, ran missions, and all of that other good stuff. It all felt _right_.

One night, a few weeks in, her and Ahsoka were lying in their makeshift bed, surrounded by darkness. Ahsoka was running her fingers through Ilaria’s hair absentmindedly, and the latter recounted her observations on how little had changed between them.

“You call this a little bit of change?” Ahsoka remarked, her fingers not pausing.

“That’s not what I mean,” said Ilaria, nudging her. “I mean that if you think about it, like, ugh I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m rambling.”

“You tend to do that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Ahsoka giggled. “Keep rambling, I am sure you will get the right words out eventually.”

“Thank you,” said Ilaria with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “What I’m saying is that this, you and me, has felt right from the beginning. From before it was you and me. Does that make sense?”

Ilaria could hear the smile in Ahsoka’s voice as she said, “Yes it makes sense. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Ilaria twisted around so that she and Ahsoka were face to face, relying on the Force instead of her useless eyesight. “You’re doshing with me.”

“I would never.”

“Mmhmmm.” Ilaria thumped back down on the sleeping mat. “And I’m a shaak.”

“Gross.”

“Ahsoka!”

“Come on, Ari,” she said, kissing her on the temple. “We need to sleep. We have that fuel run tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Goodnight.”

“Of course it is.”

Ilaria closed her eyes, and fell asleep to the sensation of Ahsoka running her fingertips through her hair. She didn’t realize that she had forgotten to take her sleeping pills.

At first, she didn’t even realize she was dreaming.

The first clue should have been that she could see. She was lying in the makeshift bed on the floor of the bunkroom, Ahsoka beside her, and the vulptice pups bed lay empty at the edge of the room. Strange.

She turned to ask Ahsoka where the pups were, but she was gone. Confused, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and exited the bunkroom. When the door slid open, though, she was standing in snow. Everything on the ground was smooth and white, and the sky was such a pale blue that it almost matched.

Everything was oddly still and silent, and tiny white flakes fell from the watercolor sky. She had never seen snow before, and she reached out for the flakes, but she could never seem to touch them.

“You were always reaching for things you shouldn’t.”

She turned to see someone standing a few paces behind her, wearing tattered tan clothes, her curly, dark bronze hair pulled back behind her head.

“Mom,” she choked. “Wh-where…how?”

And then she was in front of her, moving stray hairs out of Ilaria’s face, her green eyes bright with love. “I worry about you.”

“Mom…”

“I have to go…”

The ground gave way, and Ilaria struggled as she fell through the suddenly soft snow. It swallowed her, burning her face cold and filling her lungs.

“Ari! Ilaria! Wake up!”

She woke with a start, eyes wide and straining, and only to be met with blackness. Her heart was racing, and she was shivering from the cold. Ahsoka put a hand on her shoulder, and she shivered.

“Ari…”

“Stupid,” said Ilaria, mostly to herself. She teetered desperately to her feet, almost tripping over the blanket and taking it with her, and catching herself on the metal cabinets with a bang that the whole hangar probably heard.

The sheets blanket rustled behind her.

“Ilaria, sit _down_.”

“I will,” she said, fumbling around the cabinet until she found the drawer she was looking for. “I forgot to take my medicine.” She opened the drawer and pulled out the bottle, her hands trembling as she pulled out one of the round, plastoid-smelling pills. “Is there a water in here?”

“Top of the cabinet. Right side.”

Stepping carefully around the vulptice pups, who were rustling around in their own bed, confused by the sudden commotion, she located the bottle. Putting the pill on her tongue, wanting to vomit at the taste already filling her mouth, she chased it with the metallic water.

She collapsed back down on the bed, still clutching the water bottle. The silence was heavy.

“You were calling your mother,” Ahsoka said at last.

Ilaria could still see her, standing amidst the white landscape. _I worry about you._ She suddenly felt overrun with guilt. “I saw her.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“She said that she was worried about me.” Ilaria’s mind felt numb, and the water bottle in her hands didn’t feel real. The air still seemed entirely too cold. “I just want to go back to sleep. I’m sorry if you felt that.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Ahsoka said immediately. She pulled up the blanket and draped it over Ilaria’s shoulders, kissing her on the cheek. “How long before the pill kicks in?”

“I don’t know. Fifteen standard minutes? A little less?”

“That’s not long.” Ahsoka put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Did I ever tell you about the second time Anakin caught Obi-Wan’s robes on fire…?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it started with Anakin making a bet…”


	24. Chapter 24

May’rd was running some last-minute tweaks on flashback suppressor of his T-65B X-wing, not really making adjustments as much as he was double checking everything with the ship. It was always good to do a once over before a mission. His astromech copilot, R4-X8, had already been lifted into his socket on the fighter, and it let out a series of whistles as newcomers approached.

He turned to see Ilaria Moon approaching her X-wing, which was parked next to his. She wore a grey flight suit, her lightsaber clipped to the belt, and her golden hair in a single braid that started at the top of her head. In one hand she held a cup of caf, and in another, her stamped helmet. Rolling beside her was an astromech she had acquired from a pirate raid, which she had named Cheap, and trotting on her other side was Salt, crystal coat jingling.

“A good day for a flight,” May’rd greeted as she sauntered up to her ship, casually hanging her helmet off of one of the cannons. It was an unusually clear and cloudless day on Crait.

“Good as any other,” said Moon in return, doing the same as he had and checking over her X-wing. Apparently, she had never really been exposed to technology or ships before she joined the Rebellion, and so in the past few months she had spent most of her time devoted to learning as much about technology as she could. She often overlooked repairs (which often made the mechanics fumble from nervousness), and sometimes she could be caught taking apart parts of her X-wing just to learn how they went together. Her efforts had paid off, though, and she could now function as a decent mechanic and pilot. Well, maybe more than decent pilot. For someone who didn’t even know how to turn a ship on, she flew as if she had been doing it for years, and she was especially good at planetary flying. May’rd supposed that it was her Force-using abilities that made her so good so quickly.Their mission that day was a simple one: steal cargo from an Imperial freighter in space. It was a mission that they had run more than a few times. Commander Tano, who was leading the mission, would be in her freighter with Vesta copiloting, and the rest of the squadron, Silver Squadron, was to keep the Imperial fighters busy. May’rd and Moon had the duty of getting the Imperial freighter to drop it’s cargo.

He tried not to stare as she Force-lifted Cheap into his place on the X-wing, or leapt from the ground and into the cockpit with a single, graceful leap. Instead, he put on his own helmet and used the lift to climb into his own cockpit. All around them, the other pilots did the same, and Salt, Moon’s empty caf cup in her mouth, trotted a safe distance away. Engines went from silent, to idling, and then hovering a meter from the ground before the foremost gently flew out of the gaping hangar doors. Commander Tano’s well-armed freighter led the way, May’rd and Moon falling into formation on either side as they rocketed into the atmosphere, the rest of the small squadron falling in behind them.

Commander Tano’s voice came over their comm, “Silver Squadron, check in.”

“Silver One, checking in,” May’rd replied.

Moon, sounding almost bored, was next, “Silver Two, present.”

“Silver Three, reporting for duty,” came Nikki’s reply, sending a course of electricity through May’rd, and he pushed his worry for her to the back of his mind. It was something he was used to at this point.

And, so on it went until they were all checked in. After check in, the normal banter coursed through the comm link.

“I’m betting on taking down seven TIEs today, boys,” Nikki’s voice rang out once more.

“ _Boys_?” Voncile repeated.

May’rd laughed and comm’ed, “Bet I can get more than the both of you combined.”

“That’s a pile of stang if I’ve ever heard it,” came Moon’s voice.

“Alright, cut the chatter,” Commander Tano’s voice came through the radio. “Ready for hyperspace jump, now.”

The coordinates had already been preprogrammed for all of them, and a moment later, the swirling tunnel of the hyperspace lane consumed them all simultaneously. The knot of excitement in May’rd chest was building, the usual jitters he always experienced before a dogfight, the cursed hyper awareness that there was a very good chance that not all of them would return. It could be his last mission, or Nikki’s. He could just see her piloting behind Moon, and he couldn’t tell if that relieved him or made him more nervous.

Commander Tano’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Dropping out of hyperspace in two minutes.”

Get ready.

Moon’s voice came over the comm next, “Let’s rock ‘em, boys.”

They dropped out of hyperspace, and there it was, the transport, nestled in a blanket of stars. He and Moon raced forward ahead of the others, heading for the belly of the transport. Their mission in particular was to knock out the electromagnets that held the cargo supplies to the bottom of the transport. Commander Tano and Vesta would sweep in with their freighter, tractor beam, and collect the crates of supplies.

They were three-quarters of the way to the transport when the TIE fighters began to stream forth and the firing began. “Here they come,” said May’rd, and R4-X8 beeped an affirmative.

At first, he and Moon were able to maintain their course fairly well, thanks to the cover fire of their comrades. However, as the swarm of TIE’s intensified, Moon’s voice came over the comm, “Silver One, head for target. I’m going to drop back to cover you.”

And suddenly, he was alone, the tip of the iceberg charging the transport. His ship’s sensors told him that Moon was behind him, further supported by the discharge of green cannon bolts that soared past him and caused TIEs to burst into multicolored flame and flak.

“Nice shooting, Silver Two,” he managed to say, as his own cannon fire destroyed another TIE in front of him.

“I know,” she replied back, and May’rd could hear the smile in her voice. “Let’s try to get this down in one shot, or else this stang is about to get complicated.”

“It’s not already complicated?” asked Voncile, her X-wing cutting across their vision as she chased down another TIE.

“It’s only complicated when someone’s mother gets involved,” said Moon. “Two on your tail, Silver Six, try to get around for a pass in front of me.”

Jon, Silver Six, managed to give Moon her shot, and one of the TIEs following him disintegrated. May’rd took care of the second one, and Jon swooped back around to give him additional cover as he made his final approach to the looming belly of the transport. Jon and Moon took out the transport’s cannons.

And then, he was almost under it, and he could see the precious cargo containers, and the little box with the control panel. He lined up the box in his panel, and fired.

The panel smoked and sparked, and the cargo dropped free of the transport as May’rd, Moon, and Jon raced underneath. But, the TIEs on the other side were already waiting. Jon exploded into a ball of fire before he could even say that he was hit, and the shockwave violently pushed May’rd ship sideways, and for a panicked moment he lost control and was hit.

Alarms blared in the cockpit, and on one of his screens, R4-X8’s beeps were rapidly translated, and May’rd’s heart sunk. “I’ve been hit. My hyperdrive is out and I’m losing fuel.”

He fired frantically at the incoming TIE’s, and Moon’s X-wing swooped past him, rolling and firing with demonic accuracy as she cut her way through the TIEs. “Silver One, dock with Silver Leader. I’ll cover you. Silver Leader, status?”

It was Vesta who answered, “Cargo in tractor beam now. Will be clear for Silver One to dock in thirty seconds.”

“You heard the woman, get moving Silver One.”

May’rd circled back towards their freighter, under which the cargo was floating closer and closer to the hull. He felt like he was crawling, his engines only running at half capacity. R4-X8 was already running the docking sequence. It would take a miracle for him to get there without being hit.

“Guys, we have a problem,” Voncile’s voice came over the comm link. “A Star Destroyer just dropped out of hyperspace. TIE’s are already incoming.”

May’rd’s teeth were clenched so hard together that his jaw hurt. He was so close to docking. The cargo was secured to the hull of the ship.

They would be surrounded in moments.

Commander Tano’s voice, “Jump to hyperspace as soon as you can.”

The remains of Silver Squadron immediately made for the outskirts of the battle, disappearing in elongated flashes of light. All save for Moon, who continued her mad circling around the freighter, lying down cover fire and dodging bolts with impossible speed and agility. For a brief moment, May’rd watched, mesmerized, and he wondered how the Jedi ever lost a battle.

His ship jolted as it docked to the freighter, and Moon’s voice came over the comm link, “Clearing a path for you now, Silver Leader. Follow me.”

“Throw up the rear deflector shields!” May’rd said to R4-X8. If he was struck, the explosion would rock the entire ship, too.

They lurched as the freighter gunned it through the mess of TIE’s, away from the incoming fighters and swerving madly to avoid cannon fire from the TIE’s and incoming Star Destroyer. And then, the stars elongated, and they left the swarm of black ships behind. Only when they were in hyperspace did May’rd allow himself to lean back with a sigh of relief.

He climbed the docking hatch and made his way through the freighter and up to the cockpit, where Commander Tano sat in the copilots chair, and Vesta beside her. They were both crouched over the console.

“-ight problem,” Moon’s voice came from the console comm.

Commander Tano’s eyes were narrowed, and she glared at the console. “What kind of problem?”

“I may or may not have gotten grazed before I jumped into hyperspace. And there may or may not be something that smells like burning metal, and there may or may not be a problem with my diagnostics system. Cheap’s working on it now.”

“That doesn’t sound like something a graze would do.”

“It might have been a direct hit.”

Commander Tano closed her eyes for a second.

“Can she dock?” asked Vesta. “There’s an other open docking port.”

May’rd frowned. “That could be dangerous if she doesn’t know what’s wrong. If the ship blows, it could take all of us with it.”

“What if she got on board and then we dropped the ship?”

“That seems like a waste of a ship,” Moon cut in, and May’rd jumped. He had forgotten that she could hear everything they were saying. “Let’s let Cheap see if he can get the diagnostics system fixed, and go from there. He’s estimating—how long? Four standard minutes. Give or take? What does that mean? Aren’t droids supposed to be exact? Alright alright, approximately four standard minutes, it seems.”

“That’s four standard minutes where you could explode,” said Commander Tano, something like worry beginning to tinge her tone.

May’rd was reminded of how two close the women were, and he thought of how we would be reacting if it were Nikki in that X-wing. He would be insisting that she get on the freighter immediately—damn the X-wing. He felt a new sort of admiration for his Commander, with how calm she remained, and he reflected that that was part of the reason she was a Commander, and he was a simple pilot. After all, she was a veteran of the Clone Wars. He briefly wondered how many times she had to talk to people she cared about while they were in danger, how many times she knew they could vanish from the other end of the comm link at any time.

“Well, now it’s a little over three,” Moon said cheerfully. “We can just keep talking, and it will be fine. Plus, what if I docked and _then_ randomly exploded? Then I would be taking all of us down with me. This is the best way. There’s a million what-ifs in this situation—there’s no sense in worry about all of them. And, look at that. Now we’re at a little under three minutes left to go.”

Commander Tano let out a huff. “Three minutes? That’s nothing for your mouth.”

A dramatic gasp came from the comm link. “ _Ash!_ There’s other people on this link! Geez, be professional.”

May’rd and Vesta quickly turned their laughs into coughs, and Commander Tano’s lekku flushed, a sharper contrast coming to her pattern, and for a moment, he thought she was going to have Ilaria land just so she could strangle her. “ _Why_ are you like this?”

“What kind of question is that? It’s not like I would know that answer to it, anyways. To be honest, I suppose that answer would entirely rely on perspective. From your perspective, it could be because of one thing, and from mine, because of an entirely different thing.”

Commander Tano sighed in exasperation, rubbing her forehead, and Vesta and May’rd exchanged a glance. So, everyone’s speculations about Tano and Moon had been true, and apparently Voncile was going to win the pool.

“But, it’s hardly important, isn’t it?” Moon went on, filling the silence, still somehow sounding eerily calm and unbothered despite the impending possibility of her exploding at any moment. “All that’s important is how amazing hyperspace is. Isn’t it? Seriously, how many years upon years did it take to map these lanes, to invent the technology for us to safely travel through hyperspace? For the stars and nebulas and everything else between to turn into some neat little tunnel for us to rocket through, a way to transverse the galaxy.” She sighed. “Oh, look at that, Cheap finished repairs early. Let’s see…so, according to diagnostics, it’s just a stabilizer overheating. Throw some coolant on that—oh, Cheap’s already on it. Ready to dock, Commander.”

And so, May’rd watched through the cameras as Moon carefully docked her ship to the freighter, causing it to jolt ever so slightly for a moment before it returned to it’s normal hyperspace hum.

“I’ll go down to meet her,” said Commander Tano, swiftly standing.

Ahsoka’s relief and exasperation were running almost hand-in-hand as she made her way to the docking port, which had already air-cycled, and Ilaria was emerging from the circular opening. Her hair was plastered against her head, although still in it’s braid, and her cheeks were flushed. She smiled sheepishly. “Please don’t murder me.”

That alone was enough to make most of Ahsoka’s exasperation evaporate, but not quite all of it. She crossed her arms. “Was that really necessary?”

“It distracted you, didn’t it?”

Well, it did. For a brief moment, Ahsoka had been spared from worrying about Ilaria’s possible impending demise, if not with a flush of embarrassment and exasperation. “If they didn’t know before, they do now.”

Ilaria sat down on the durasteel floor, leaning against the wall. “They’ve been taking bets on it for weeks, or has it been months? I can’t remember exactly. Either way, they’ve had a pool running on it for a while now.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ilaria, and she smiled crookedly. “What did you expect? After all, you’re a horrible liar. Your eyes give you away every time.”

Her being a bad liar was one thing (and even Ahsoka could admit that she wasn’t the best at lying), but to have the pilots making bets on her personal life? Really?

“Is it such a bad thing?” Ilaria asked. Her eyes were a flinty grey in the white, artificial light of the freighter. “I mean, that they know about us. The betting I can see you being a little miffed about, but I mean, at least it gives them something to look forward to. Who knows? Maybe we can jostle a few credits off of whoever won.”

Ahsoka stared at her. “I suppose it’s not such a bad thing.”

“Wow, _please_ sound more enthused.”

“I’m sorry,” sighed Ahsoka, sitting down beside her. “It’s just…a lot. There’s a lot going on.”

“There always is,” said Ilaria, somewhat stiffly. “There always will be. That’s how our lives are, and will be, especially in the face of the Empire. Our lives will never be simple, never be just one thing. And, if that’s a problem, well…” She trailed off, averting her gaze, her presence in the Force as thick and illegible as the middle of a storm cloud. “I don’t know.”

Ahsoka felt her throat growing tight. “What are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that if we’re going to be this,” she motioned at the space between them, which was admittedly, very little, “Then we’re going to have to accept…dosh how do I phrase this? We’re going to have to accept the insanity of it all, that there will always be a lot going on.”

Strangely, Ahsoka reflected that there wasn’t much in the universe that seemed sane anymore. She closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep sigh. For the past few weeks, she had been ignoring all of the subsequent implications of a relationship with Ilaria: the questions from others, the old Jedi warnings about attachment, and then, the additional vulnerability. Being with Ilaria also meant someone else she could lose. But, was that really the way to live her life, scared of loss?

“Ash, is it okay if I hug you? You look like you need a hug.”

Unable to resist the urge, she smiled, and nodded, and Ilaria’s warm arms wrapped around her shoulders, her cheek pressed against Ahsoka’s. The pressure against her lekku was slightly disorienting, hyper focusing her spatial awareness to Ilaria’s movements. She smelled like sweat and metal.

“You’re right,” said Ahsoka at last. She thought of all of the other couples she knew within the Rebellion, the way they loved each other despite the insane risks they took every day, the way they opened themselves up to each other knowing that each mission could be their last. “You’re right. And you know what? We will face it all together.”

For a millisecond, Ilaria’s breath paused. “Ha! You know what this means, right?”

“Oh stars, what?”

“We’ve gone full-loop insane. Because, because we’ve lapped crazy and now we can tell people we have a girlfriend. Do you know how normal it is to have a girlfriend? Next thing you know, we’ll be buying a horrible apartment in a big city because we’re too dumb to know that it smells like piss, watching the latest holovids the day they’re released, and complain about how loud our upstairs neighbors are.”

Despite herself, Ahsoka grinned. “ _We_ have a girlfriend? Who’s the third person?”

“Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Ahsoka laughed and kissed her as the vibration of the floor beneath their feet changed, and they dropped out of hyperspace. Rather reluctantly, they made their way to the cockpit. After all, the day wasn’t over yet.


	25. Chapter 25

“Shoot me,” Ilaria was saying. She had a folded and tied scarf covering her eyes, her drawn lightsaber humming ominously. It was the same color as the sky. They were outside, a good distance from the hangar, and Harland thought she looked far too relaxed from someone who was asking to be shot at. It was just her, him, Salt, and Cheap, who had also been giving a modified blaster, so that its bolts stung instead of incapacitated. Salt lounged and watched the spectacle with vague disinterest.

“Are you sure about this? I mean, shouldn’t Ahsoka be doing this?”

“She’s busy, and you weren’t.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You asked. Now shoot me, nerf herder.”

Rather reluctantly, Harland raised his blaster and fired, while Cheap did the same with his modified arm (privately, Harland wondered how wise it was to modify an astromech to carry a blaster). She deflected the bolts with ease, although it wasn’t a simple matter of deflecting that she was working on. It was deflecting with aim. Rotating around above their heads were a series of round, floating practice targets. They moved sporadically and unpredictably, made to mimic lifeforms, and it was at them which Ilaria was attempting to deflect their bolts at.

The first one missed, and the second one grazed one of the practice targets, which blinked yellow before mockingly returning to its normal green.

“Keep going,” Ilaria said encouragingly. “Worst case scenario, I take a quick nap in the salt.”

“That’s reassuring.”

However, Harland and Cheap followed orders, and they showered Ilaria in blaster bolts, incrementally increasing their rate of fire until her lightsaber was nothing more than a humming blur, and the bolts were thrown aggressively back to the practice targets. It wasn’t long before each deflected bolt found a target, and Harland started having fun with it. He shifted position, moved left, right, dropped, rolled, and jumped, firing as randomly as possible, but Ilaria rarely failed to deflect a bolt, and the ones she didn’t manage to bat back, she neatly side-stepped or ducked.

And then suddenly, she stopped, and his bolt caught her square in the stomach.

Harland’s heart dropped, and he quickly lowered his blaster. “I didn’t meant to…”

“That was my fault,” she groaned, clutching her stomach and sheathing her lightsaber. She ripped the scarf from around her eyes, pulling it down to her neck. “I got distracted.” She was already marched back towards the base, her eyes narrowed deeply in thought. “I think I figured out something.”

Harland jogged to catch up with her, Salt and Cheap coming in from behind, the latter letting out a series of confused beeps, still clutched the blaster in his rather strange looking arm. “And what would that be?”

She gave him a sideways look, her expression unexpectedly stormy. “To be honest, I don’t think you want to know. I’m going to go ahead.”

And she did, breaking into a sprint towards the hangar, and Harland, baffled, stopped to watch her go. Cheap stopped beside him, letting out a series of forlorn beeps, and Salt gave them a look that resembled contempt as she cantered past, dutifully following her owner.

Ilaria found Ahsoka at the comm station, sending out a series of encrypted transmissions. In fact, she was in the middle of a holo with a woman that Ilaria recognized to be the steadily-growing famous Mon Mothma, Senator from Chandrillia. Only when she came to a halt at the edge of the dais did she notice all the stares she had attracted, but she hardly cared. She felt like she was vibrating, and Ahsoka gave her a curious sideways glance, her white over-eye markings narrowing slightly. She raised one in a silent question.

 _Hurry up_ , Ilaria mouthed. _I figured it out_.

“Is there a problem, Fulcrum?”

“No,” said Ahsoka, tearing her gaze from Ilaria. “Not exactly, Senator. Although, I believe I will need to call you back…”

 _Tomorrow_ , Ilaria mouthed.

“Tomorrow.”

The transmission ended and Ahsoka, arms crossed, marched over, her curiosity and concern overwhelming her irritation at being interrupted. “What is it?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” said Ilaria, leading the way across the hangar to where they kept the landspeeders. Minutes later, they were racing across the salt flats, heading through the mountain valleys and Ilaria wondered how she had made it back on foot the previous time she had made the trip.

Ever since she had accidentally summoned what they were referring to as a “Force-ghost” or Barriss, they had been trying to figure out how she had done it and, more importantly, if it could be done again. However, there attempts had come up empty-handed, and it was beginning to more and more seem like it was a stress-induced fluke. Each time she tried to once again summon Barriss, Ilaria had felt as if there were a piece in her mind blocking the Force, a dam to the river of the Force that flowed through her. Except, except that when she was deflecting bolts from Harland and Cheap, which was in a sense its own sort of meditation, she had felt that the dam had been broken down.

She explained this all to Ahsoka as they cruised, and added, “Also, I was thinking, about it more and if these Force-ghost are sentient, what if they don’t necessarily have to come when I summon them? Like, if they don’t want to appear, they don’t have to? Not that I have a complete faith in my abilities to not fail, but still, it’s a thought.”

Ahsoka considered it all pensively, her lekku flapping in the wind and her blue eyes reflecting the setting Crait sunlight brilliantly as she studied the horizon. “It’s a possibility.”

“Isn’t everything?”

They made it to the river, exactly where Ilaria had previously met Force-ghost Barriss. She could still even see the tunnel entrance in the grey rock face above, and the red sand of the riverbed added dimension to the colors of the sunset. Ilaria could feel it. She knew this attempt was going to be different.  
She found a comfortable spot at the edge of the bank, and sat cross-legged. Ahsoka sat across from her, and the both of them closed their eyes, falling into a simultaneous meditation.

“Let me guide,” Ilaria said softly, her voice barely audible. “Relax, love.”

At the word _love_ , Ahsoka’s thoughts sparked for a moment, and Ilaria allowed herself a brief smile. She dove deeper into the Force, focusing on Ahsoka’s memories of Barriss. She saw her, trapped and dying in a tank, buried beneath a droid factory on Geonosis. And then, stalking through a freezing transport, ice creeping over metal. Finally, surrounded by yellow lightsabers, head proudly raised. Ilaria saw these images, and let them go, breathing them as easily as air. She then moved forward, remembering when she had met Barriss’ ghost there on the riverside, and she breathed that memory, too.

She was deeply attuned into the Force, and if she had opened her eyes, she would notice that the granules of the red sand around her had begun to levitate a few centimeters above the ground.

 _Barriss_ , she said with her mind, speaking into the Force as if she were speaking into the mind of another organic being, _I know you are here. Show yourself, speak to me._

There was something, a sensation building in the Force. A presence, and then…it was gone. With a growl of frustration, Ilaria’s eyes snapped open, and she almost did a double-take, as sitting to her right was the ghostly translucent image of none other that Barriss Offee.

Ahsoka, who had also opened her eyes, stared open-mouthed. “Barriss.”

Her dead friend’s eyes took them in, quite equal to it all. She looked so peaceful, it was hard to imagine her bombing the Jedi Temple, murdering innocents. “Hello, Ahsoka. It has been some time.”

Ilaria could feel Ahsoka’s thoughts racing, struggling for a reply, for an explanation, and to give her time, she spoke, “Barriss, why didn’t you come before when I asked?”

“It was not the right time.”

“And why is now the right time?”

“Because before, you were not ready,” said Barriss, “The road to destiny is not always a quick one, but yours is approaching faster than you think.”

 _That_ didn’t sound good.

“Destiny?” Ahsoka repeated with reproach. “You’re going to preach to use about destiny?”

Ilaria flinched. Although, she understood where Ahsoka was coming from. She could see the irony in the situation.

If her outburst bothered Barriss, she didn’t indicate so. “Destinies are not as simple as we would like to think.”

Ilaria blinked, and Barriss was gone, leaving only her and Ahsoka sitting in the cool, damp sand as the stars took over the sky above. They stared at each other for a long while, until the sky above was a completely inky black, and Ahsoka’s white markings appeared to glow in the starlight.

“This is going to take a few rotations to unpack,” Ilaria finally said.

“That’s the understatement of the millennium.”

“Are you okay? I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“Yes, I will be fine.”

“Come on.” Ilaria stood, her joints complaining in the process, and offered Ahsoka a hand up before dusting the sand from her pants. The dampness of the shore and grit of the sand made her skin itch. “Let’s get back to base. I’m thinking a trip to the water showers and some tea will go light-years for the both of us.”

Later, feeling much refreshed, Ilaria laid on the sleeping mat, wide awake. Her chin rested on Ahsoka’s shoulder, her cheek against her lekku, and beneath her arms, her breathing was slow and steady with sleep. Her skin was warm and soft and comforting, and she smelled like soap, which was nice.

Although Ahsoka was inherently a little distrustful of what ghost-Barriss had said, Ilaria did not think the Force-ghost had been lying. _Destinies are not as simple as we would like to think…yours is approaching faster than you think._ The words ran themselves through her mind over and over. How could it be approaching faster than she thought? In hardly more than half a standard year, she had gone from serving drinks to being a lightsaber-wielding Rebel pilot and spy—was that not fast enough for the universe?

Troubled by the thought, she pulled Ahsoka closer, as if it were possible, and only succeeded in waking her up. Ahsoka was, as Ilaria had come to find, an incredibly light sleeper.

“Still not asleep?” she asked groggily, twisted around to look at her.

In the darkness, all Ilaria could make out was the faint illumination of her over-eye markings, and she suspecting that was more of a trick of her poor eyesight than anything else. “Yes, I am. You’re dreaming.”

“Liar.” She said it with a smile, bringing a hand up to push some stray hairs from Ilaria’s face. “Go to sleep, idiot.”

“You’re so kind.”

“Sleep.”

“Alright, alright, yes ma’am, Commander Tano.”

Ahsoka nudged her leg half-heartedly. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Fine.” Ilaria resituated herself, rolling over and trying to get comfortable, pressing her back against Ahsoka’s. She shivered once, and Ahsoka rolled over, wrapping her arms around her, wrapping her in warmth. Finally, she was able to close her eyes and drift to sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

CANTONICA, THREE MONTHS LATER

If there was one city in the entire galaxy that could weep gold, Xochitil Xao, commonly known as Xochi, thought it would be the casino city of Canto Bight. A handsome human male who’s dark hair was beginning to tinge with grey, he professionally operated as independent corporate fixer. Meaning, if a company had a problem, whether it be an employee selling secrets, or need of a middle-man for negotiations, or something in between, he was there to fix it. The reign of the Empire had hardly hurt his business, and

in fact, as he admired the wealthy war profiteers around him, gambling away their profits, he had to admit that if anything, they had improved his business. The Empire liked quick results for the businesses they endorsed, and Xochi was good at what he did.

One of his faults was that although he could resist the temptations of most gambling games, such as sabacc, there was one type of gambling Xochi couldn’t resist: fathier racing. The tall, long-earned, hooved quadrupeds always filled him with a sense of excitement when they thundered around the oblong track, throwing up dirt in the bright arena lights as the crowds cheered. He even fancied that he had an eye for the creatures, thinking of himself as somewhat of an expert, if you will. It was not uncommon for him to spend much of his vacations up in the track grand stands, cheering and checking his betting tickets with the others. He wasn’t quite rich enough to afford to watch the races from the transparisteel-enclosed boxes at the top of the stands, but he swore that one day he would be. Still, one had to have a decent amount of money to be a spectator anywhere on Canto Bight, and his mere presence there still filled him with pride.

The first thing he noticed on that particular night in the stands with his friends was the beautiful young woman watching the races from a few rows down. Her short hair was so blonde that it was almost white, and her tight, sparkling silver dress revealed a lithe, though pleasing, figure. Around her left upper arm, she had three thin black bands tattooed, and when she sometimes turned her head to whisper to her companions, he caught a glimpse of bright red lips and a delicate, gorgeous face. She had the air of someone that either came from old money, or was there on her father’s dime. He privately hoped it was the latter.

However, when the races were over, which was well past midnight, and the crowd dispersed, Xochi was disappointed to lose her in the throng. There wasn’t much time to dwell on it, though, as he had won over ten thousand credits on the last race, and his friends were herding him towards one of the many bars the casino had to offer, chanting his name and clapping him on the back. There weren’t his friends in the extent that he confided in them, or particularly trusted them, but in the sense that he had someone to drink, gamble, and party with.

Of course, the first two rounds of drinks (shots) were on him, and sufficiently buzzed, he twisted around in his bar stool to examine the crowd. The bar’s occupants were a heavy mixture of humans and aliens, and as he scanned the fuzzy crowd, a shimmering silver dress catching his eye. It was her! The woman from the race! She held a pink cocktail, and was engaged in a conversation with a green-skinned duros, although she looked rather uncomfortable. Her arms were crossed, and she kept shifting her weight and taking small steps back from him, as if she couldn’t wait for the opportunity to flee.

Realizing that his luck for the night had only begun with his spoils from the races, Xochi took another shot and told his friends not to wait up for him. He made his way through the crowd, until he stood between the woman and the duros, smiling pleasantly at her and exclaiming, “There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and with a pleasant smile, ushered her away from the gaping duros. Needless to say, he had hardly made it to his forties as a bachelor without learning a few moves. He led her back towards the bar, out of sight of the duros and his friends, and said, “You look like you needed a little help there.”

“I appreciate it!” she exclaimed, her voice light and airy. She had a round beauty mark on her right cheek, and her eyes were a stunning light blue. “I don’t think I could have lasted much longer before I would have had to make a run for it.”

“Another drink?” he asked pleasantly, motioning at her near-empty glass. “My name is Xochi, by the way.”

“Sól,” she answered with a charming smile, her red lips competing with her blue eyes for his gaze. The lips won. “And yes, that would be wonderful.”

Soon, they were seated side-by-side at the bar, and a few drinks in, Xochi was feeling more than confident. He started talking about his room in one of the hotels, how it offered a beautiful view of the Cantonica dual-sunrise, which hooked Sól’s attention just as he expected. Again, he wasn’t new to the game of impressionable young women.

Then, they were walking arm-in-arm to the hotel, taking the lift up, and drinking cocktails on his balcony, overlooking the rumbling oceans beyond the rocky cliffs. The wind gently tugged at Sól’s hair, and it glowed white in the moonlight. Her dress made it all too easy for him to imagine it on the floor. She had slipped off her heels, and so she was barefoot, petite, and one step closer to the bed that loomed in the middle of the room.

He asked her what had brought her to Canto Bight.

She twirled her drink, the ice clinking against the glass, and her bottom lip pouted slightly for a brief moment before she put her charming smile back on. “My father never really let me leave our home,” she said, “I was always confined to the grounds so now that…now I try to travel and see as much of the galaxy as possible. And, I heard that Canto Bight was the place to go if you wanted to have a good time.”

Xochi wanted to hug her, kiss her, and well…

He reached out for her hand, delicate, with nails painted the same shade of red as her lipstick. Suddenly, he was very tired, and he was struggling…struggling to keep his eyes open. He swayed, and Sól’s surprisingly strong arms caught steadied him.

“Xochi,” her voice was full of concern, “Are you okay?”

He thought of how much he had to drink, and was suddenly regretting the last two cocktails on the balcony. He didn’t handle his alcohol as well as he used to anymore. “I-I just need to sit down for a second.”

“Here,” she breathed, leading him over to the bed and helping him sit, and then lay down. Her hands felt his forehead, and she said, her voice colored with concern, “You feel very hot…”

And that was the last thing he remembered.

It was almost too easy, Ilaria reflected, as she unbuttoned Xochi’s shirt. The man was unconscious, but she had to sell the bit, and he _was_ burning up. Drips of sweat were appearing on his brow. Once she was satisfied that he looked like he had passed out drunk, which he more or less had, she retrieved her shoes from the balcony, and was sure to close the glass door and curtains behind her. The entire time she kept mental tabs on Xochi, making sure he wouldn’t randomly wake up.

She rifled through his things until she found his work bag, which contained an assortment of datapads. Sitting on the floor, she took apart the platform of her heel and dumped out the assortment of datachips she had brought along with her. Some of them were empty, and some of them were pre-programmed with various functions that tended to be useful for a spy. In the platform of her other shoe was a deactivated comm link and a miniature chrono.

Pulling Xochi’s passcodes from his thoughts had been relatively easy, considering his inebriated state, and so she punched them in and unlocked the screen. Here was the thing about datapads for people such as Xochi: when it came to critical information, such as client information, not only was it password protected and encrypted, but usually they had programs running on their datapads that if they didn’t directly prevent information download, they at least set off a series computational alarms if information was downloaded, basically a red flag going Someone has downloaded confidential information!

Here was the other thing, though: many people protected their information by making it non-downloadable / non-transferable from their datapads, but many people didn’t have features against reprogramming. Meaning, all Ilaria had to do was insert one of her handy pre-programmed datachips, which would insert a virus, named NotHere into the datapad that would thus temporarily re-program it to allow for inconsequential downloads before eradicating itself, leaving no trace of its presence in the datapad. It was invented by those much smarter than Ilaria.

The only downside to the NotHere virus was that it operated on a limited timeframe, only two standard minutes. So, if one had to move larger quantities of data, the virus needed to be reinserted over and over until the data was downloaded. Mess up the time frame, and the consequences could be less than stealthy. And that was why she was there, wasn’t it? Stealth.

She worked quickly, NotHere chip, empty datachip for download, NotHere chip, and so on. Her hands were steady, and her breathing slow. Worrying would do absolutely nothing for her, and she calmly watched companies and names flit before her on the datapad. Her scalp itched from the wig, and she resisted the urge to mess with it. There was no need for her to occasionally glance around at Xochi, as he had begun snoring like an overweight bantha.

When she was done, she put all of the chips back in her comm link, and set Xochi’s things exactly as he had left them. She ruffled her hair, smeared her lipstick slightly and then attempted to fix it, and carrying her heels in her hand, quietly exited the hotel room. She turned the lights off before she left.

A walk of shame was a walk of shame, and all she got was the occasional smirk in her direction. She shuffled along, outwardly embarrassed and inwardly, content. She had done her job, and she had done it well.Back at her room, which was in a different ring of the casino hotels, she took off her make up, changed into her sleep clothes, and pulled out her long-range comm unit. She tapped the transmit button three times—a signal that meant data was acquired, and flopped down onto the luxurious bed, closing her eyes and sighing.

She was more than content with her success, she was wildly pleased with herself because, in addition to her mission of copying the data from Xochi’s datapad, Ilaria had given herself her own mission. Her private goal for this mission had been to see if she could obtain some credits of her herself.

See, before the time of the Empire, casinos used to be super stringent about monitoring for Force-users—something about unfair advantage. However, after the establishment of the Empire, the concern of monitoring for Force-users had gone slightly further to the backburner. After all, who would be stupid enough to use the Force to try to get a few extra credits when faced with the possibility of being hunted by the Empire’s army?

There was one thing Ilaria noticed when scanning records of Force-users previously arrested (or worse) for scamming casinos was that the idiots seemed to have no concept of moderation. They would roll up into a casino, and then wrack up tens, hundreds of thousands of credits in impossible winning streaks. Of course, that looked suspicious, and of course they were investigated for cheating, and of course, that was how they were caught.

Luckily, she wasn’t so stupid.

Throughout her night, while she was scouting Xochi, she had spent her time moving between the various dice tables and slot machines. Lose fifty credits here, win two hundred here, lose five-hundred credits here, win a thousand there. For the rich and affluent that frequented Canto Bight, those numbers were just chump change, and soon enough, she had lost five thousand credits, but won twenty thousand. She tripled her end winnings by putting all her previous ones on the last fathier race of the night, where she just knew the underdog would win. To anyone watching, she had a mildly lucky night that then happened to turn extremely lucky, just as it had for everyone else that happened to bet on Farther #11.

Before she engaged with Xochi, she had transferred all her winnings to a bantha leather pouch, which was now safely clutched in her palm. She pulled out one of the gold pieces and rotated it before her eyes, glossy, and thought of how hard it was going to be to sell to Ahsoka. A grand plan was forming in her mind. It had begun the second time she had summoned Barriss, slowly and unconsciously unfurled and blossomed until one day, the realization had struck her clear as day, a new sprout emerging from the dirt. Ever since, it had stubbornly grown, taller, sprouting leaves and tendrils, increasing in complexity and yet, becoming a functional unit. Five months, it had been in the planning and tonight, after this heist she knew it was possible.

She was taking another step forward.


	27. Chapter 27

CRAIT

Ahsoka listened patiently as Ilaria gave her mission report to herself and the holo of Bail that stood before them. She still wore one of her dresses, this one an elegant forest green, but had discarded her wig. Her fake tattoos were still present on her upper arm, too.

Throughout the report, she noticed that Ilaria was fiddling with her lightsaber hilt the entire time she spoke, and even more so when she had to pause to let Bail speak. Ahsoka reached out to the Force around her, but only found smoke, which made her frown slightly. It had been months since Ilaria had shielded her out like that. Something had happened on that mission.

For a brief moment at towards the end of the transmission, the smoke cleared and Ilaria looked as if she might say something, but she simply bade Bail farewell and ended the transmission.

Ahsoka went back to the ship while Ilaria made the trip to the hangar refreshers. Of course, Ilaria being her, had left her backpack on common room table, and Ahsoka picked it up to deposit in the bunk room and noticed that it was much heavier than it should have been. Without really thinking about it, she peered inside and saw a glint of gold. Intrigued, she reached inside and produced a leather pouch of Imperial credits. Judging by the weight, she guessed that there was over ten thousand there.

Her heart sunk, and then, she was irritated. What had Ilaria been thinking? They had specifically said before this mission: no using the Force do gamble, don’t do anything stupid, and don’t risk your cover. And even if she had somehow just made a lucky gamble, why had she not immediately turned over the credits to the Rebellion? Why keep them? Why not tell her about them?

She was still staring at the credits, trying to decide what to do, when Ilaria appeared in the ship, her wet hair already braided behind her head. Her eyes went from the credits, to Ahsoka’s accusing stare, and her mouth parted. For once, she was speechless.

“What is this?” Ahsoka asked quietly.

“I was going to tell you,” Ilaria immediately replied. Her cheeks were flushed, and she held the towel up by her chest. “I just needed time. I needed to see if it would work.”

“If _what_ would work?” Ahsoka pulled out one of the credits and waved it in front of her accusingly. “Do you realize how stupid this was? You endangered yourself, the mission, the Rebellion, all for what? A handful of credits.”

Ilaria worked her jaw. “Do I look like some doshing ignorant nerf herder to you? Do you think that I wasn’t aware of the possible consequences, of what the kriff I was doing? This wasn’t just some doshing whim, Ahsoka. I kriffing knew what I was doing. And, _and_ , that’s a little more than a stanging _handful_ of credits.”

“So then why do it? You don’t need the credits—the Rebellion provides you with everything. And don’t tell me they are for the Rebellion, because if they were, you would have turned them over with the data chips.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything!”

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you are.”

Ahsoka let out her own growl of frustration. “What am I supposed to think, Ilaria? You jeopardized a mission, put yourself in danger _and the Rebellion_ , in danger, just so you could secretly get your hands on some credits! Why do you need to get credits like that? If you needed something, the Rebellion could provide it. Why did you hide this from me? Were you planning on telling me about this at all?”

“Because some things are not so doshing simple!” Ilaria yelled, balling her fist. “Like I _just said_ , I was going to tell you, but first I had to make sure that it worked! And I can’t explain kriff to you when you’re standing there acting like I’m getting ready to ransack the Rebellion for every measly credit it has! Stars, thank you, for your everlasting faith in me. You see, Ahsoka, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the future. Because, guess what, the Rebellion doesn’t have mountains of credit lying around to use to fight the Empire. We lack resources. _That_ ,” she gestured at the sack of credits, “is the beginning of an idea, a new venture to support the Rebellion.”

“Then why not give it to Bail?”

“Kriff, why did we have to get into this debate now?” growled Ilaria, storming past Ahsoka and into the bunkroom, hitting the door pad so that it would remain open. She began to rummage through her drawers. “It’s kriffing freezing, I’m still wet. Honestly I’m shocked that my scalp isn’t frosting over right now. I don’t even know where my doshing clothes are, and it’s now that we have to have this discussion.” She let her towel drop to the ground, freeing both her hands. “Stars. Okay, _okay_ , kriff. This is not how I imagined this going.

“I have two accounts set up with the IBC under the alias Austrine Fernsby. _Hey_! Don’t give me that dirty kriff look.” She pulled a pair of skin-tight black trousers on, followed by black and white band shirt. “I set them up with the rest of my credits that I brought from Xeroianjj. One is an investment account, and the other is a disposable one. Twelve thousand of those credits are for the investment account, and the other three thousand are for the disposable account.”

Ahsoka wasn’t sure if she liked what she was hearing. “You’re making yourself autonomous.”

“Yes, but so I—we—can function autonomously. If I can get this working, if we can keep bringing credits into these accounts and create more like them, do you see how much good we could do?” Rather aggressively, she pulled on her black boots and slapped on her grey braces and vambraces. “We will be able to back the costs of our own missions, invest in companies that support the Rebellion, and pour more credits into the Rebellion. This is going to be a long war, Ahsoka, and credits give autonomy, autonomy gives power, and power gives us the ability to help people on a larger scale.”

“Power…” Ahsoka painfully thought of the Republic in the end, the Senate, and the Jedi. “Power is easily corrupted.”

“Have you told that to Bail? Mon Mothma? What about the twenty-five thousand years the Jedi Order stood? Do you think they were _easily_ corrupted? Do you think _I_ am easily corrupted?”

Ahsoka stared at her, unsure of what to think. She had once thought that the Jedi were incorruptible, and in the end, hadn’t they been clouded by the dark side? By their higher sense of disillusioned purpose? And yet, there was an undeniable truth in Ilaria’s words: if they wanted to make a galaxy-wide impact, power would go a long way in doing that. After all, that was how Bail and Mon Mothma were able to start the Rebellion in the first: they were powerful and rich people. They had accounts and portfolios akin to the ones Ilaria was starting.

Before she could say anything, Ilaria grabbed her cloak and pulled it over her shoulders. She said bitterly, “Food for thought. I’m going on a walk. Do whatever you want with the kriffing credits.”

She stormed away, her presence in the Force rumbling like thunder, and all Ahsoka could do was watch her go. She realized that she was still holding one of the credit bars, and she examined it sourly. Ahsoka knew that despite Ilaria’s anger, she had spoken truthfully, her words reverberating through the Force. Credits led to autonomy, autonomy led to power, power led to the ability to help others on a larger scale.

Ahsoka silently cursed herself, slumping down into the booth. Power. Power and attachments. Power and attachments and material objects. She once again ruefully reflected on how she was raised in the Jedi Order. She never had to worry about credits, but it was a simple fact that the Jedi wouldn’t have been able to operate without millions and millions of credits at their disposal. The Jedi had credits, autonomy, and power to help others, but for some reason, they failed to teach just how important the credits were in all of that. And, for most of her life, Ahsoka had not needed to think much about credits, either. Even in the Rebellion, Bail more or less sought to it that she had what she needed, and even when something wasn’t in the budget, it wasn’t like Ahsoka was the one that had to find the credits for it.

She should have been calmer. Ilaria’s logic had been sound, but then and again, hadn’t Ahsoka’s been as well? If this was going to work, they needed to work on it together. Dumping the credit, now warm with her touch, back with the others, she retrieved her cloak and raced after Ilaria.

Ilaria ran. She started jogging before she even made it out of the hangar, and by the time she was on the salt flat, she was in an all-out sprint. She poured the Force into each step, and ran. She ran until her muscles screamed and her lungs burned and the kilometers had peeled away. In her mind’s eye, she kept seeing the look of accusation on Ahsoka’s face, the bordering on betrayal. The worry that she, Ilaria, would let power and credits ruin her. And so, she ran.

She only stopped when she could no longer breathe, and the mountain containing the hangar was a speck in the far distance. There, she stumbled to her knees in the salt, and finally laid down on her back gasping desperately for air. It took a while for her muscles to stop burning, and for her heart rate to return to normal. She was finally relaxed, able to think quickly. She shouldn’t have run away, and she shouldn’t have yelled at Ahsoka. That much, she could admit. Stars, she thought about the run back to the base with regret. She had a feeling that it was going to take her a lot longer to get back. She should have brought a water bottle with her.

Time trickled by, and she closed her eyes and breathed, letting the sunlight soak into her skin, the coarse salt already working its way into her scalp, sticking to her still-damp hair. The wind kept having a tendency to whip the salt into her face, so she covered her face with her cloak and just laid there, absentmindedly trying to figure out what the kriff she was going to do next.

She felt Ahsoka in the Force, and then the crunch of her boots in salt gradually slowing, heavy breathing. There was the crunch of salt and a slight break in the wind as

Ahsoka laid down beside her. And, when the breathing evened out, “Do you know that you ran almost forty kilometers?”

“Don’t remind me.” Ilaria sighed, oddly relaxed. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No…are you still mad at me?”

“No. I guess that’s all it takes.”

“What?”

“Next time we fight, we just need to go on a forty kilometer run. Then we can just skip the whole ‘yelling at each other’ part.”

Ahsoka laughed. “Next time?”

“It’s bound to happen at some point.”

“Assuming we’re still alive.”

“Assuming we’re still alive.”

Ilaria sighed, not wanting to ask the question, “What do you want to do, Ash?”

There was a few excruciating seconds of silence before Ahsoka answered, “I want to put fifteen thousand credits in Austrine Fernsby’s IBC accounts. But, Ari, you need to tell me these things. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t know what you were doing or that you had bad intentions…it just surprised me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ilaria, somewhat thankful that her cloak was still covering her face. “I should have told you sooner. I just…I don’t know. I guess I was scared that you wouldn’t approve, and I thought that if I showed you that it worked, you would be more likely to be on board with everything. Maybe…kriff, I don’t know. It’s just…yeah, on a big corporate level, intergalactic level, fifteen thousand credits really isn’t a lot. But, do you know how much that could have changed my life on Xeroianjj? Do you know how many lives that could change? How many missions that could fund? The dresses, the wigs, the programs, the ships. They’re not cheap, and if we could get to the point where we not only paid for them, but gave more money to the Rebellion…”

“You want to make a bigger difference,” Ahsoka said simply. “You don’t want to be just another spy.”

The simple truth of it struck Ilaria forcibly. “I can still be a spy, but I can do this as well. I’m meant to do this.” And, as she said it, she knew that she was moving forward, and she also realized that it meant change. She pulled the cloak from her face and rolled over so that she was facing Ahsoka. “We never said it was going to be easy, did we?”

Ahsoka rolled over so that they were face-to-face, her brilliant blue eyes deep and glittering like an ocean. “No, we didn’t.”

Four months, they had been together, and almost two standard years they had known each other. Ilaria thought of the very first night Ahsoka and Harland had walked into Scales, and how long ago that felt. The Force had led them together, and Ilaria knew that no matter where she went, it had been true when it led them together. “I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

Her eyes widened, and she smiled so wide that Ilaria could see her sharp canines. “I love you.”

“Are we too proud to call a landspeeder to come pick us up?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.” Ilaria scrambled to her feet and helped Ahsoka up as well, pulling her into a bear hug. “We’re going to make a difference. We’re going to help people and give the Empire hell and we’re going to do it together.”


	28. Chapter 28

CONTINUED IN BOOK 2: THE LONG GAME  
  


Thanks for reading!


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